


The Phantomhive Baby

by bun_o_ween



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Adult Ciel Phantomhive, Alternate Universe - 1990s, Anal Fingering, Australian/Yakuza AU, Ciel is touch-starved and Sebastian is a Serious Horse, Daddy Issues, Jealousy, Kissing, M/M, Rough Sex, Size Kink, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2020-02-10 21:55:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 31,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18669133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bun_o_ween/pseuds/bun_o_ween
Summary: “Past that’s about 200 kilometres of nothing, just forest - and the Reef, of course. Further up there’s Waxflower Island, the site of-”“The Phantomhive massacre,” Sebastian said. “Whole family killed by the Japanese mafia, back in the 1970s.”“Mum, dad, and two little boys,” Ben added with a sad smile. “Even the family dog."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter would not have happened without the patient, incalculable generosity of peekaboo-desu, who did me the massive favour of proof-reading this (despite her insane job), and who has blessed me with her friendship.
> 
> I can't thank you enough for all the hours you have spent listening to my insecurities, then building me back up - for brainstorming and reassuring, for inspiring confidence, for valuing my dumb ideas and helping them snowball into stories like this.
> 
> I'm just so, so grateful to you. Unfathomably so. Thank you so much for everything! 
> 
> ......
> 
> This story is also dedicated to everyone who has stayed with me throughout the years, and supported all the stories that lead to this one.
> 
> I am anxious to know what you think, so kudos and comments would be appreciated very much.

**July, 1996**

 

_Two dead and six wounded after man holding children hostage opens fire._

Sebastian paused when he saw the headline, a noodle slinking off his fork to land on the plastic tray beneath it.

The newspaper was folded on the table across from his, the front page blinding from the fluorescent airport lighting. The edges were scuffed, the photo faded - unsurprising, as the headline was over two years old.

Sebastian put down his fork, his appetite for _Guay Tiew Moo_ forgotten, and felt the noodles writhe inside his stomach. The policeman sighed, a familiar tightness to his temple. He stood up and walked towards the paper, forcing himself to stare down at the photo.

 _Face your fears_ , his therapist had said. _Confront them._

On the paper was a photo Sebastian had seen so many times he had it tattooed on the inside of his eyelids. Him, laying on his back, his rifle abandoned next to him. Another officer crouched over his body, putting pressure on the bullet-hole in his leg.

Sebastian swallowed, a pang shooting up his left leg. He kneaded his thumb into the scar tissue, his heart crawling into his throat as he flicked his eye over each detail of the black-and-white photograph.

There was a spray of blood on the cement, the glint of Sebastian’s engagement ring as he coiled his fist in pain. Sebastian could still hear the _smack_ of the bullet that lodged into his thigh, could taste the iron of his blood on the warm December air all those months ago.

Almost two years old - but there it was again, innocuously folded on a table inside the Sydney airport - a bleak reminder that Sebastian could never run from what had happened.

Like an omen stained with honey sauce, Sebastian forced his eyes from the paper. He wondered how it ended up there, how it had survived the past two years. He wondered the same of himself as he stood there, holding a boarding pass to a town he’d never heard of.

He wondered if the person who’d been reading it had looked up from their Thai food and caught sight of him, leaving once they recognised who he was.

_Sebastian Michaelis, disgraced cop._

Before he could linger on the newspaper any longer a voice echoed over the speakers and announced his flight was boarding. Sebastian tucked his boarding pass into the novel he’d bought from the news-agency, dog-eared on the front page, then headed to his gate.

As he left the food court, Sebastian paused to look out of the floor-to-ceiling window at the planes landing and passing by. Past them he could see Sydney, a slip of grey city that he wouldn’t see again, the sky above her pale with smog.

Thumbing open his novel the policeman eyed off the flyer he’d tucked in beside his boarding pass, glossy and tacky, doing nothing to settle his nerves.

_Nowhere - Meeting Place of the Pelicans_

Sebastian huffed, flipping the flyer over to gaze at a photo of a family sitting on a white-sand beach, smiles as manufactured and shiny as the paper it was printed on.

“You’ll love it,” his former boss had said. “Quiet town, friendly people - _great_ fishing.”

He’d said it with a smile, like the man was giving him a choice in where he was reassigned. Sebastian knew he should be grateful for the opportunity to be reassigned at all, not fired, after what had happened.

But he couldn’t hold back the mournful sigh he made when he imagined himself _fishing_.

He was still thinking about it when his plane departed, the thick window beside his head shuddering as they took flight. He watched the city that he loved turn into doll houses, cars like ants, and eventually - a dark speck on the horizon.

He watched until all he could see was endless forest and the ocean stretching out for an eternity. He drummed his hand along his unread novel as the airplane realigned and headed away from the familiar, and north into tropical Queensland.

………………………………………………………………………………………….

 

 _Hot_.

It was the only word that came to Sebastian’s mind.

It was the middle of July and Nowhere was so hot Sebastian shrugged out of his jacket the moment he stepped out of the airport. He plucked at his shirt where it clung to his skin, following his new Senior Sergeant out to the carpark, suitcase trembling on the concrete.

Benjamin Glenn had a ruddy face and wrinkled eyes, the hair around his temples wiry and white like an old onion. Even though Sebastian didn't start his new position until Monday, Ben had gone out of his way to pick him up from the airport. He'd even clapped him on the back and called him _son_.

Although the clap made Sebastian’s jaw clench he couldn’t find it in himself to dislike the man. Ben reminded him of his father, down to his untucked shirt and his kind, dark eyes.

“You’ll get used to it,” the man said of the heat, hand clapping Sebastian’s back again. With his free hand he pointed a finger gun at Sebastian, and then a cheeky grin. “You’ll have to!”

Sebastian forced a smile, following Ben to the only car in the lot - a dust-speckled paddy wagon with a tennis ball jammed over the towbar. Sebastian grimaced, already mourning his slick cruiser back in Sydney.

When he hoisted his two suitcases, the sum of all Sebastian’s belongings, into the backseat of the vehicle, Ben released an impressed whistle.

“Those boys weren’t lying,” he exclaimed. “You sure are big, son.”

Sebastian blanched.

“No, it’s a good thing,” Ben reassured, jumping into the driver’s seat. “You might have heard our Superintendent is retiring in a few months - we’ll need all the muscle we can get.”

The vehicle came to life with a rumble, choking on an exhaust full of dust before it shuddered into life. The windscreen was speckled with insects so Sebastian wound the window down, blinking at the lush forest either side of the small airport.

“That’s our beach out that way,” Ben said, pointing out a slip of water between the trees. “Swimming’s good at King’s Beach, but the fishing’s better at Pelican Point.”

 _Fishing_ , Sebastian thought again, pressing his tongue into his cheek.

“Past that’s about 200 kilometres of nothing, just forest - and the Reef, of course. Further up there’s Waxflower Island, the site of-”

“The Phantomhive massacre,” Sebastian said. “Whole family killed by the Japanese mafia, back in the 1970s.”

“Mum, dad, and two little boys,” Ben added with a sad smile. “Even the family dog. So, you’re a massacre buff then, are ya?”

“It was very famous,” Sebastian shrugged, remembering the footage on the television when he was just a kid.

Ben hummed, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel as the car rattled down the highway.

“Sure was,” he agreed, and then he laughed. “Nothing out there now but trees - and roos, probably.”

………………………………………………………………………………………….

 

The entrance of Nowhere was marked by a rusty sign.

It might have been red once but was now a tender pink, letters peeling in several spots. _Welcome to the middle of Nowhere_ , it read.

The outskirts of town were speckled with houses, white wood amongst sprawling backyards, grass green and sky blue. The mailboxes were rusted too, some decorated to look like animals. Sebastian huffed as they passed by a humongous styrofoam stegosaurus, it’s golf-ball eye popped out and yellowed on the ground.

“That’s Sandy,” Ben offered as an explanation.

“Ah.”

It was mid-afternoon by the time they reached town but Sebastian couldn’t muster up an appetite, the breeze briny with fish. He eyed off a fish and chip shop, and then a few doors down a cherry-red noodle house.

“Oh, that’s Noodletopia,” Ben said, his commentary un-ending. “Don’t get the _Nasi Goreng_.”

“Pelican Point,” he added a moment later, when they passed by some fishermen.

The car turned along a waterside strip, and Sebastian’s breath caught as he took in his first, unadulterated view of the beach. It stretched as far as the eye could see, white-sand and palm trees, just as pretty as the flyer made it seem. The crashing waves could be heard over the car’s engine, sunlight filtering through the water to reflect a brilliant turquoise.

“Isn’t she a beauty?”

Ben smiled as if he could sense the calm that radiated from Sebastian. The man nodded, the corner of his mouth quirking up as he relaxed into his seat.

When they pulled away from the ocean it was to turn onto a wider street, which Sebastian figured was the town centre. The streets were lined with heritage buildings and charming shops wedged between, tree-lined and dotted with the occasional resident. They all turned and watched the paddy wagon pass by, their eyes prickling Sebastian’s skin.

“She’s a sleepy little town,” Ben told him. “Most action we see is when old Darren has a few too many and goes staggering off to the pier.”

Sebastian didn’t take his eyes off the street, the type of picturesque that was a tourist’s dream. In the distance he could see the mountains, lush with forest and hazy with the sun.

“Sleepy sounds good to me,” he found himself saying.

Nowhere was small, simplistic. The no-name supermarket was the size of Sebastian’s city apartment. Beside it was a hair-salon, a gift shop. Further up an old cinema, a bait and tackle shop on the corner that faced the beach.

“Just gotta grab the post,” Ben said, pulling the paddy wagon over.

He parked beneath a tree, beside a double-story building, painted white and green, with a veranda that wrapped around the sides. Sebastian’s heart skipped a beat.

“Your post office is inside a pub?”

Ben hummed, getting out of the vehicle and closing the door with a _thud_.

“Yep,” he said, apologetically. Like he had read Sebastian’s file. “You’re welcome to stay in the car.”

Sebastian examined the elegant typography painted onto the pub, the large ceiling fans spinning over the outdoor tables. The foliage of the gum tree towering over the building bobbed and danced along the walls of it, the echo of music playing from a speaker behind glass doors.

He could also smell the miasma of liquor, fragrant and gut-wrenching, in the breeze.

 _Face your fears_ , Sebastian remembered. _Confront them._

“No, I’ll come too.”

Inside the pub was empty, the only sound the radio playing over the unattended tables. The floorboards were glossy, the bar illuminated with little light-bulbs that glinted off the shelved bottles. Even empty the place had a cosy feel to it, from the ferns sitting on the windowsills to the retro beer posters framed along the wall.

The smell was stronger here, familiar. Like home, and Sebastian felt his jaw lock as he stepped into the bar, fingers drumming over his bicep. He followed Ben out back, into a kitchen. There was a man standing over the stove, frying something to the point of burning, a cigarette in the corner of his mouth.

“Morning Bard,” Ben announced, heading to a pigeon hole stuffed with envelopes.

The blonde didn’t look up from his frying pan, exhaling a lungful of smoke over the food. He was tall and broad, with thick, defined arms and narrow hips. Sebastian’s eyes dropped to the slip of skin between the man’s sweatpants and his shirt, his abdomen flat and as tan as the rest of him.

When the man looked up Sebastian was startled by how light his eyes were, pale blue, brighter against the shadow beneath his eyes. The blonde narrowed them, his jaw squaring as he took in the sight of both the policemen.

“Morning Ben,” he grit. “Invite yourself in next time, why don’t ya?”

Ben ignored him to pick through the post, gathering some envelopes into his hand. The blonde turned his attention to Sebastian, flicking his eyes up and down his figure.

“This is the pub owner, Bard Delacroix,” Ben introduced. “He hates cops, isn’t that right?”

Bard rolled his cigarette into the corner of his mouth and shrugged.

“Does the tin-man have a metal cock?” He shot back, the contents of his frying pan now black.

Ben laughed, loud and tense. Bard rolled his eyes at the sound of it, muttering beneath his breath as his sight lingered on Sebastian’s chest.

“Shirt tight enough, buddy?”

Sebastian felt his face go hot and he plucked at the material clinging to his sweat-damp skin. Bard’s own shirt was several sizes too small and stained in several places, but Sebastian didn’t bother to point that out.

Instead he lowered his eyes when Bard’s cigarette crumbled and the tip landed in the scorched thing inside his pan.

“You dropped ashes in your… ashes.”

Bard looked at the pan, disinterested by the sight, and gave it a poke with his spatula.

“The fuck are you?” He said. “The health inspector?”

“Sebastian’s our new constable,” Ben butted in, placing the envelopes underneath his arm.

Bard paused for a second, then he blinked.

“Oh,” he mumbled, sheepish. “Beer?”

The blonde dropped his charred pan with a _clang_ and headed for the fridge, fishing out a beer. Sebastian’s chest clenched, his face still too warm, arms tight where they crossed over his chest. Ben floundered, and Sebastian saw him shake his head in his peripheral, almost hysterically.

So he _had_ read his file.

“Sebastian doesn’t drink,” Ben told Bard, adding another nervous laugh onto the end of it.

Bard stared at Ben, and then Sebastian. Sebastian swallowed when the man took a step forward, opening the beer with the corner of his stained shirt.

“Right,” Bard said, his eyes crinkling with a mean, tight-lipped smile. “Of course he doesn’t.”

He took a gulp of the beer whilst looking the policeman in the eye, so dead-pan that Sebastian felt his neck prickle. He cleared his throat, stuffing his hands into his pockets to hide his fists. He was shaking, just a little, watching the sweat drip off the blonde’s cold beer.

He’d met a thousand Bards.

Sharp-talking, arrogant and rude-mouthed in the face of the law, the type of man who lived to make a policeman’s job twice as hard as it already was. Sebastian learned to ignore them, mostly, but it took all his effort not to shove the blonde into the wall and knock the smirk right off his face.

On the way out of the pub Ben clapped Sebastian’s shoulder, his chuckle strained around the edges.

“Don’t mind Bard,” he apologised. “He’s a single father.”

“Ah,” Sebastian exhaled.

He remembered when his niece was born, the way his brother looked with bags under his eyes, years taken from his handsome face. Baby formula stuck to the four-day stubble on his cheek, spit on his shirt. The memory made Sebastian smile for a second, but then it fell away, his stomach along with it.

“How old’s the kid?” He asked Ben, climbing back into the passenger seat.

Ben restarted the vehicle and it gave a rumble, shaking the dust out of the seats. He put the envelopes in the centre console and looked sideways at Sebastian.

“Twenty-two,” he replied.

………………………………………………………………………………………….

 

It only took him a moment to unpack.

Sebastian put on the kettle and in the time it took for the water to boil, both his suitcases were empty. He put his uniform, clothes and guns into the closet of his bedroom, put his medication in the shelf behind the bathroom mirror. He sat his novel on the coffee table and on top of it a clay figurine, a horse with a little bird sitting on it’s back.

He walked around his new home with a cup of tea in hand, a fragrant decaf blend, something his therapist had recommended. He rolled the taste on his tongue as he waited for the air-conditioning to kick in, going room to room to look at how empty each of them were.

The Queenslander-style home was brand new, the walls white and the floor made of timber. It was surrounded by vegetation on three sides, thick grass and frangipani trees, and abundant hibiscus blossoms. When he stood on the porch he could see the ocean, and his own patch of private beach.

He washed out his mug when he was done with it, sitting it up-side-down on the sink. He went over to his novel and flicked through it, reading a paragraph before shutting it and abandoning it once more.

He went into his bedroom and took one of his handguns from the closet, then put it in the table next to his undressed bed. Then he sat on the mattress, still wrapped in plastic, and stared at the floor. He thought about the beer Bard offered him. He thought about his parents.

He wandered out into the hall and picked the phone up off the wall, punching in the numbers as he fiddled with the phone cord. He held his breath as he waited for it to ring out - but then the line clicked, and his father’s breath rumbled down the line.

“It’s me,” Sebastian said. “I’m here.”

He could feel his father’s smile, picture the way he would readjust himself in his leather recliner as he got comfortable.

“That’s good,” he said. “How was your flight? What’s the town like?”

Sebastian shrugged, twirling the phone cord around his finger.

“Long,” he said. “Quiet.”

He pressed his lips into a line, then he exhaled.

“Is mum there?”

His father paused long enough for Sebastian’s heart to sink. He listened to the recliner creak, could hear the echo of the television in the background of his childhood home, his father’s awkward swallow.

“No, she… She’s in the shower.”

A tightness worked its way into Sebastian’s throat. He blinked furiously as he released a sigh, turning his cheek so it wouldn’t catch the receiver.

“Can you tell her I love her?” Sebastian forced past the lump in his neck.

“I will, son. Love you.”

Sebastian pressed his lips into a line, squeezing the plastic coil in his hand. He didn’t want to ruin the call by sobbing into the phone, simultaneously relieved and heartbroken to hear his father say the words.

“Love you too,” he rushed, exhaling - then hung up.

Sebastian sunk down to his new floorboards, drawing his knees up to his aching chest. His hands shook when he inhaled, his stomach undulating. He felt childish, an intense misery welling up inside his chest, a loneliness that made him feel like he would cry.

………………………………………………………………………………………….

 

There was nothing to eat in his new home.

When the sun began to sink over the horizon, the sky streaked pink and blue, he realised the refrigerator wasn’t even plugged into the wall. He stared at the empty chest for a while, like food might appear if he looked long enough.

Then he shut the door and swiped his keys off the kitchen counter. He could find something in town, he figured. It wasn’t far to walk. The fresh air might brush away the anxious feeling he’d had all afternoon - the restlessness in his bones.

The path to town was lined with nature - palm trees and the ocean on one side, and tree lined thick with galahs on the other. The birds argued as they grazed, waddling up and down the branches as they tried to screech louder than the cicadas.

Nowhere was dark at night. Neon lights blinked out of darkened shop windows. A few late stragglers wandered the beach, kids on bikes twisting up and down the sidewalk. A woman with a border collie passed by Sebastian, collar jingling as they ran.

Noodletopia was open, the hum of the air-conditioning making Sebastian pause and look in it’s direction. Unnatural white light illuminated the sidewalk, inviting insects by the droves. He lingered, his mood perking up a little at the smell of charred meat.

He glanced across the street and saw the pub too, lit up from the inside out, music echoing into the dark.

His restlessness, momentarily distracted by the swaying palm trees and the briney breeze, hit him like a tidal wave. The muscles in his chest seized up, his heart and lungs crushed between them. He blinked as he watched two men sip beers on the pub veranda, one’s laugh catching on the wind.

Like the insects outside Noodletopia, he couldn’t look away. He stepped forward, looking both ways before he crossed the street despite the complete lack of traffic.

His heart was pounding by the time he made it to the pub, standing at the base of the stairs, looking up at the open double-doors, waiting for someone to stop him. He could smell liquor, hear the clink of glass against wood. The men on the veranda laughed again, and Sebastian went up the stairs, holding his breath.

Inside the bar the music was louder. It filled the empty room, the unoccupied seats and tables, the plants lining the sill. This time there was a bartender, a boy, dancing behind the counter.

Sebastian stopped to watch.

The boy’s sneaker squeaked on the floor as he spun around. His hair, a funny grey colour, fanned out as he tossed it back. His lips were mouthing out the lyrics, petal-pink and effortless, dancing like he didn’t see Sebastian - or like he didn’t care.

The song was an old one. The music was quick and happy, but the lyrics were sad. Sebastian knew - he’d listened to this very song a thousand times after Liam had left him.

 _Now that you’re gone, all that’s left is a band of gold._  
_All that’s left of the dreams I hold is a band of gold._

Like the newspaper on the airport table, the song hit him where it hurt - his gut. His stomach coiled into a knot as he watched the bartender flick around, dancing as if that song hadn't been the soundtrack of Sebastian's depression.

He took a step closer to the bar, the floor creaking, the smell of beer whispering promises in his ear. He didn't notice the music had died down until the bartender spoke to him.

“Hey,” said the bartender, out of breath. “Bar doesn't open till six.”

The boy tucked back his hair, clipped close around his ears but thick and long where it hung against his cheek. His lips parted as he panted, lips quirking up the longer the cop stared.

The kid was pretty. Alarmingly so. His eyelashes were so thick he'd put a calf to shame, his little waist framed by the band of his bottle-green, corduroy jeans. The cicada sound filled the space between them, and then the smile fell piece by piece from the boy’s face.

“You look lost,” he said, voice gentle to match the way his brows met in a frown.

Sebastian opened his mouth and wet it with his tongue, heart jittery. It was too much - the alcohol lined up behind the bar, the boy standing in front of it, so gorgeous Sebastian felt like he was a teenager again, young and stupid, and tongue-tied by beauty.

His embarrassment must have read like glowing letters on his head because the smile returned to the bartender’s face, this time amused.

“You’re quiet,” he teased. “For a big guy.”

Sebastian could still hear _that song_ between his ears. The boy leaned over the bar and extended his hand to shake.

“Ciel Delacroix,” he said.

Sebastian looked at his fingers, then the bottles, and then forced himself to take a step forward. When he shook Ciel's hand he noticed a scar that ran over the his knuckles, starting at the junction of his thumb and finger.

“Sebastian Michaelis.”

Ciel made a little noise, eyebrow raising as he crossed his arms over the bar.

“He speaks,” the boy whispered, feigning awe.

Sebastian tried to blink the blush off his face, tapping his fingers on the bar. Up close he could see all the details of Ciel’s face, the bar light catching on his cheekbones and his upturned nose. It was pierced with a ring, but his eyes stood out the most - different colours.

One like the whiskey bottles behind him, and the other like the sea.

“You’re our new cop,” Ciel said. “The cop that doesn’t drink.”

Sebastian’s pulse spiked. He nodded, throat bobbing as he swallowed. He flicked his gaze to the beer taps over the bar, frosted over and close enough to taste.

“You don't like the taste?” Ciel asked. “Or does it mess with your figure?”

The kid flicked his mismatched eyes down Sebastian's chest, his smile crawling up into his cheek. The cop felt his skin prickle with sweat when a dimple sunk into the boy's cheek. It was so cute he almost smiled too.

“Something like that,” he mumbled instead.

Ciel flicked back his hair and swallowed away his smile.

“So, what’ll it be, then?”

Sebastian looked again at the beer taps. Something sharp pricked his hand and when he looked down he saw a speck of blood on his palm. His fist had been clenched so tight he’d pierced the skin. He quickly swiped the blood over his dark jeans, heart-beat nauseating as it pulsed inside his ears.

He hadn’t had a drink in six months.

And now, standing at a pub he shouldn’t have come to, the smell of alcohol was so permeating that he was almost sick. Yet, he didn’t feel disgusted. He felt sore with want, he felt parched. He exhaled and he heard his breath rattle. The boy heard it too, sitting up a little.

“How about a lemonade?”

Ciel reached out and tapped the back of Sebastian’s knuckles - the tiniest touch, just to get his attention. His face was expressionless but his eyes large, imploring as he waited for an answer.

The cop felt the knot inside his stomach loosen, his fists uncoil. He breathed in and then he nodded, too quickly. Ciel quirked up the corner of his lips again, then turned around, selecting a can out of the fridge.

 _Divine intervention_ , Sebastian thought, watching Ciel pour the drink into a glass, allowing himself to pant when the boy’s back was turned. The word _divine_ suited the boy perfectly.

When the boy pushed across the glass of passion-fruit lemonade their hands brushed again. This time Sebastian’s dick twitched in his pants, desperate for attention. No one had touched him in a year - not like that. Not someone as wildly attractive as Ciel.

“It’s just Pasito,” the boy shrugged. “But I stuck a little umbrella in it.”

Then Ciel winked, and Sebastian almost broke the toothpick decoration in the glass. He ducked his head to hide his face, taking a loud slurp from the drink. It made Ciel laugh, boy picking up a dish cloth so he could absently polish the bench while Sebastian drank.

“Oi,” a sudden voice barked across the room. “Eyes to yourself.”

Sebastian felt his blood pressure spike. Ciel's eyebrows pinched in the middle. He looked over to see Bard, standing at the end of the bar, his arms crossed over his chest.

“You think I'm blind?” The blonde grit. “I can see you mooning over him.”

Ciel went florid, eyelashes fluttering with embarrassment.

“He can put his eyes where he likes!” The boy bit, smacking Bard with his tea-towel when he approached the men.

The blonde's nose twitched, his eyes flicking over Ciel's body, as if checking him for harm. It was a possessive type of gesture. Protective, just like a -

“You’re Bard’s kid,” Sebastian blurted.

The blonde snorted. Ciel's eyes widened.

“His kid?” He said, startled for a second - and then his smile widened. “Yeah, Bard's my dad. What do you say, daddy?”

He whipped Bard with his towel again, the blonde growling between his teeth. He yanked the cloth out of Ciel's hand and threw it across the room.

“Daddy says shut the fuck up.”

Ciel watched the cloth flutter through the air and land over the back of a chair, his expression blank. He didn't blink when Bard grabbed him by the jaw, forcing him to look at Sebastian.

“Do we look alike?” Bard growled. “Does this brat look like my son?”

Ciel's lip crept up into a smirk as the blonde squeezed his fair cheeks. His dimple appeared again, mismatched eyes bright with mirth. Ciel was pale where Bard was tan, his features fine and doll-like where the chef’s were rough and square.

The blonde dropped Ciel, mumbling something under his breath as he shouldered past the kid, fishing a beer out of the fridge. His eyes burned into Sebastian's head as he circled back around him, a shark, passing purposefully between Ciel and the cop.

Ciel glared at him until he left, then rolled his eyes and leaned back on the bar.

“Sorry,” he sighed. “He raised me since I was four. I guess he’s pretty protective.”

He didn't blame the blonde. If Sebastian had a kid who looked like Ciel, he wouldn't let him leave the house.

“I can see that,” he said, taking a long drink from his glass.

His heart still trembled, flighty from the way the blonde had sized him up. He could take Bard in a fight if he had to, but Sebastian figured he’d walk out of it with a few less teeth. He ducked down and took another sip, cherishing each molar with a swipe of his tongue.

Ciel gave him another little smile, cleaning the glasses on the sink one by one until the bar filled up with people. Soon he was swamped by footballers, still hot from their game. They blocked Sebastian’s view of the kid, the room thick with their voices.

When Sebastian got up and slipped away, Ciel caught sight of him between the customers, and waved.

Sebastian thought about that wave the entire walk home.

………………………………………………………………………………………….

 

Sebastian didn't sleep that night.

He couldn’t tell if he was homesick, or unused to the strange sounds inside his new house. Outside the waves crashed, crickets chirped along the sill. The leaves from the frangipani tree brushed up against the walls, and occasionally the grass rustled when a blossom fell loose and landed on the earth.

He pressed his nose into his bedsheets, so new they still smelt like the store. He inhaled and let his eyes close, but he didn’t go to sleep. He hit the button on his oil diffuser when it timed out, propped up by the untouched novel on the bedside.

Eucalyptus-scented mist spilled out and onto his hand. He toyed with it, rolling onto his side to watch it drift between his fingers. His thoughts went with it, too quick and fleeting to grasp onto or ignore.

He thought about how big this new bed felt, how silent, without another body shifting on the mattress. He held his breath to listen to the snore from the warm back pressed against his, and heard nothing. His heart clenched and he burrowed his face closer to the pillow, eyes burning with fatigue.

Maybe he should get a cat, he thought. Something to make noise and keep him warm. Something to distract him. It was a pleasant thought, one nice enough to make him lose track of time just for a moment.

Then another frangipani broke loose and hit the grass.

He flinched, broken from the spell. He rolled onto his back and watched the ceiling fan turn. He fanned his fingers over his thigh, toyed with the fabric of his shorts, mapped out the sprawling scar that littered his muscle. He dug his finger into it, jolting when pain throbbed up his back.

Eventually the ceiling shifted, black to grey, then grey to dawn.

The crickets were replaced by birds, the only constant was the sea. Sebastian breathed it in, his mister finishing it’s cycling and dying, the room thrown into silence.

The man got up and made himself some tea.

………………………………………………………………………………………….

 

Sebastian jogged along the beach path until his heartbeat was drowned out by his footsteps.

On the horizon he could see surfers, little bodies bobbing up and down as the sun lit up the water. The lady with the border collie jogged past again, giving Sebastian a polite nod. The air was cool on his burning muscle, sweet against his brow.

He turned and ran up the main street, past the smell of fresh bread at the baker’s, sidestepping an old man sweeping sand off of his step. Nowhere was waking up, coming to life like the birds outside Sebastian’s window, ruffling sleep out of her wings, singing with joy.

The grocery store was open, crates of fresh fruit piled high on either side of the door, so abundant the man could smell it. When he reached the town hall he would turn around and buy some, he thought, along with the fresh bread he’d smelt.

But then something up ahead distracted him - and Sebastian came to a stop, standing dumbly on the street.

Outside the pub was a cart, sheltered by a blue-and-white striped shade. An espresso machine sat on top, steaming condensation up into the morning air. Behind it stood a boy, scribbling on a cardboard cup. Sebastian could recognise Ciel’s waspish waist, cinched tight with an apron, all the way across the street.

He shot a look up at the pub as he staggered across the street, watching Ciel pass a cup across the counter and to a customer.

“Hey,” he panted, standing dumbly on the kerb.

Ciel was wearing sunglasses, but Sebastian caught the way he glanced down at his chest, shirt stuck to his skin with sweat.

“Hey,” Ciel said back. “Coffee?”

“Oh, um.”

Ciel lowered his sunglasses to look at him, eyes twice as lovely in the morning light.

“Sure,” Sebastian blurted.

He didn't drink coffee. But, he would have said yes to a slap in the face, if it was Ciel that asked.

Behind the cart was another person, a girl reclined in a canvas chair, bare feet propped up on an Esky. She wore a wetsuit from the waist down, a bikini on top. Her skin was tan and her hair was thick and blonde, still dripping with the sea.

“You work here too?” Sebastian asked, turning his attention back to Ciel.

“What are you, a cop?” The boy’s stern expression split into a wide smile as he pushed his sunglasses back up the bridge of his nose. “Just teasing, Steven.”

“Sebastian.”

“Ahuh,” he smiled, picking up a cardboard cup to scribble on the side of it. “Latte?”

Sebastian nodded. Sure. He drank lattes.

“Do you have soy milk?”

Ciel shot the girl behind the cart a look, then ducked down to rifle through the fridge.

“I have, hm… cow milk,” he said sweetly.

“Sounds good,” Sebastian shrugged. “Is that your girlfriend?”

He winced at how pathetic he sounded. Like a creepy, old man.

The girl laughed, her full mouth curving up into a grin.

“Yeah,” Ciel huffed. “She's my girlfriend. Just like Bard is my daddy.”

He looked up when he said it, a glimpse of his eyes caught through his shades. He scooped coffee into a filter and jammed it down, tapping the handle on the bench.

“I’m Lisbeth,” the girl said, leaning forward to offer her hand.

Sebastian could feel the salt on her warm skin, could smell sunscreen and the ocean. He noticed her surfboard then, propped up on the pub’s veranda, bubblegum pink and white.

“She works at Noodletopia,” Ciel said.

“I do yoga on the beach too,” she added, kicking Ciel in the back of his leg.

“Do you go?” Sebastian asked, charmed by the smell Ciel conjured from the espresso machine.

Ciel gave him that smile again, the one that said he had the man all figured out. His dimple sucked into his cheek as he frothed the milk on Sebastian’s latte, sucking a stray drop from his hand.

“Do I look like I do yoga?” He asked, then he handed a cardboard cup over the counter.

Sebastian fished around for the coins in the pocket of his sweatpants, dropping three into Ciel’s palm, and a fourth into the jar for tips. Ciel shot him a look, but the corner of his mouth crooked up.

When Sebastian lifted his cup to take a sip he noticed the name _Steven_ scrawled onto the side. Beneath it was a love-heart, still fragrant with black marker.

………………………………………………………………………………………….

 

Sebastian went back to the pub that night.

He looked nervous again, like he had the night before, his hand tucked under his biceps to hide the way they shook. Ciel watched him look around the room, his serious eyes flicking person to person, before they landed on him. The policeman was so tense, but he offered up a little smile when their eyes locked.

He ate with Constable Glenn, the middle-aged man rambling on about something, his voice louder than the busy bar, while Sebastian offered a little nod here and there. He ate steak, Ciel noted - and he ordered another lemonade. This time the boy placed a plastic monkey on the edge of his glass.

Ciel spent his shift catching glances of the new policeman, his broad shoulders and handsome jaw, waiting for him to look up. When he did the man would narrow his eyes, but in a tender way, and Ciel would feel his heart flop around like a beached fish.

“Hey,” said Bard from behind him. “Don't get any ideas.”

Ciel tensed, and then he pressed his tongue into his cheek. Ignoring the blonde, he picked up a wet glass from the bar and began to dry it. He felt nudge at him, rude and insistent.

“I spoke to Dave today. You know what he said? He's an alcoholic.”

Ciel stopped polished the glass. “What?”

“Why else do you think we'd get a cop like him?”

Ciel swallowed and shrugged, looking up through his lashes at the man again. He didn't speak, just listened politely as Ben talked. He was wearing a plain black t-shirt but it hugged his arms and waist, the muscle in his arm shifting as he toyed with the monkey on his glass.

“Because there's something wrong with him,” Bard continued. “Cops like him don't just move to Nowhere.”

Ciel’s nostrils flared.

“It's not kind to spread rumours,” he said.

“Just look at him,” Bard hissed, ignoring him. “Guy's on the verge of a mental breakdown.”

Ciel turned and looked at Bard, the blonde's eyes locked on the man across the room, and snorted.

“Says you. When was the last time you checked your blood pressure?”

Bard broke contact with the cop to look down at Ciel, his jaw squared. He exhaled, his narrowed eyes softening.

“I'm only protecting you,” he said to Ciel, his jaw locking in the way that told the boy he was deeply anxious.

Ciel blinked, shook his head and breathed out of his nose. He looked back at Sebastian, wringing the tea-towel in his hand.

“Bard, I'm...” He closed his eyes. “I'm not a kid any more.”

“You'll always be _my_ kid,” Bard said. “You know how much I worry about you.”

“You don't have to worry,” Ciel said. “I know the rules.”

Bard huffed. He leaned down and pinched the back of Ciel's elbow, affectionate. Ciel leaned into it, butting his head against his guardian’s firm shoulder. It felt nice, his stubble messing up his hair.

“What do I always say to you?” The blonde said, close to his ear.

“That we don't trust cops,” Ciel receited mechanically.

“That's my boy.”

The boy felt Bard relax, the tension against his back gone slack. He could smell Bard, the smoke stuck to his stained t-shirt, chain cigarettes evidence of how wound up he'd been ever since Sebastian came to town.

“Don't let your guard down,” Bard reminded. “And, don't serve him any drinks.”

Ciel clicked his teeth at the man.

“Yeah okay, _dad_.”

………………………………………………………………………………………….

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am absolutely overwhelmed with gratitude at the love you guys have shown to the first chapter. I hope with all my heart that you enjoy the second - I worked really hard on this and am very eager for your feedback.

 

 

“I can see you thinking.”

Sebastian looked up from his paperwork to find Liam staring at him. The man held a coffee cup in his hands and a smile in the corner of his mouth.

“Sorry,” Sebastian said, taking off his glasses. “It’s just-”

“Work, babe. I know.”

Liam pushed away from the office door and padded over to press his hip against Sebastian’s chair. The police officer could smell the decaf blend wafting from his cup and the faint trace of coconut in Liam’s shampoo.

Sebastian nodded, letting go of a breath he’d been letting build up. Liam’s hand dropped to his nape, warm with coffee, and his thumb worked a firm circle into his sore muscles.

“Don’t be sorry,” Liam said, then took a sip of coffee. “I knew what I got into when I married a cop.”

Sebastian folded his glasses and craned his head up until his nose pressed against his husband’s forearm. Here his skin smelt like the beach, felt like sunshine on his cheek. Liam smiled, eyes soft.

“This is the worst honeymoon _ever_ ,” Sebastian murmured.

He opened his eyes to watch Liam laugh, his mouth open just a little. His husband was blonde, but not fair. His hair was like wet sand on the beach, his eyes like the sky outside their apartment – not entirely blue, not entirely grey.

“But that promotion will be worth every weekend you've worked, my love.”

Sebastian gave another nod, eager to fall backwards into Liam's radiant reassurance. The blonde continued to rub little circles into Sebastian scalp, giving gentle tugs to the black locks between his knuckles.

“You deserve this, y’know?”

Sebastian glanced up, lashes heavy with the special attention his head was receiving.

“Mm?”

“This promotion. You deserve it, Sebastian. You’re a good man.”

Liam said the words slowly so Sebastian would know he meant them. The man smiled, baring his teeth. One of his canines was crooked in a charming way.

Sebastian breathed out his nose, but when he opened his mouth to reply no sound came from his lips.

Liam’s smile fell. He frowned, cocking his head to one side. Then he froze, a static blink rippling through his body like a VHS-tape left on pause.

Sebastian’s stomach fell from his body to the floorboards. He watched as Liam’s lips parted and were replaced by a mechanical hissing. He lifted his hand to touch his husband but his fingers slipped right through him, Liam’s body disintegrating into a cloud of multi-coloured pixels.

_Y-you’re a good m-_

Liam’s body shuddered and then flickered away. In a pop of light he was gone, a television unplugged at the wall, leaving an echo in his wake.

 _A good man_.

The coffee cup on the desk disappeared. The static Liam left behind rose to a deafening pitch, so sharp Sebastian covered both his ears with his hands, mouth open in a silent, panicked cry.

 _You’re a g-g-g-g-good man_.

His office became blinding white, wisps of dashing colour. Sebastian saw a hint of pale green, the glint of something silver. The static turned to ringing. The ringing turned to murmuring.

“He’s crashing.”

Eyes looked down at Sebastian, fours sets of them. Disconnected from their voices, mouths covered with a patch. Rubber fingers turned his cheek, something cold scraped up his arm.

Sebastian sucked in a breath at the unfamiliar touch and with it came the smell of blood. The scent was thick, his teeth covered in a film of it. Sebastian sobbed, the fluorescent lights above him rushing by like passing cars.

“Liam,” he cried between his teeth.

Pain throbbed up his side. Sebastian lifted his hand and saw his skin was black.

 _No_ , not black.

It was blood. Blood that ran down his wrist and into his sleeve. Blood that gathered on his pelvis and when Sebastian dropped his hand he found it oozing from his leg.

“Liam, p-please,” he stammered. “Liam, _don’t._ ”

Sebastian tried to stem the blood but his wrist was caught in rubber fingers, his arms and head restrained. He screamed and there was more static. There was pain and there was bile, and the echo of a bullet sitting heavy on the nervous voices either side of him.

_You’re a good -_

And then Sebastian wasn’t in the hospital anymore. He was still on his back but the blinding white above his head became a pale blue. His blood clung to the hot concrete, his fingers fisted in a familiar shirt.

He could see glass sprinkled around his ankles like diamonds, and something pink ahead of it. A shoe, small enough to hold in the palm of his hand.

A little girl's shoe with a daisy on the buckle.

 _You’re a monster_.

The pink shoe jumped and warbled as tears filled Sebastian’s eyes. When he screamed this time he heard it, ripping apart his throat like wet newspaper. His hand fisted in the uniform of the officer leaning over him. He thrashed, skin raw against the rough concrete.

_You’re fucked up, Sebastian._

The shoe slipped away in a violent glint of glass. Sebastian cried all the harder for it, chest so tight he felt like he was drowning.

 _You hurt everyone who loves you_.

The static became secondary to his crying, his screams as shrill and constant as the drone. Above it all came another noise.

A small, metallic _clink_. Like a bullet husk hitting concrete.

Like a wedding ring left behind on a kitchen counter.

Sebastian woke with a gasp.

He flinched when he saw the unfamiliar ceiling up above, the slow spinning fan. He could still hear his scream sitting heavy in the room, the noise that had awoken him.

And, although it had happened countless time, Sebastian couldn’t shift the embarrassment that came immediately after waking from his nightmare.

The officer slowly let go of the pillow he’d ripped into, the torn fabric falling from his shaking hand. He sobbed, not surprised by the real tears that had dripped down both his cheeks during his nightmare.

He swiped at them, smearing them across his cheek as he sucked in the brisk, briny breeze that rolled in from the crashing waves outside.

The bleach from the hospital still stuck to Sebastian’s teeth like remnants of last night's herbal tea. His leg throbbed, so sensitive that Sebastian couldn’t bare to drop his hand and prod at the knot of angry scar tissue.

Instead he got out of bed and shuffled to the kitchen, clenching his jaw as another ripple of hurt crawled up his side. The sun wasn’t up yet but the sky was bright, the ocean still and grey beyond his window.

Sebastian put the kettle on with one hand, swiping a bottle of pills up in his other, shaking a little pile into his palm. He poured a glass of water and swallowed the pills past the lump in his throat.

But he couldn’t swallow past the screaming. He could not dismiss the last words Liam had said to him.

_I regret falling in love with you._

 

………………………………………………………………………………………….

 

 

There were two seasons in Nowhere.

In the summer the subtropical town was blissfully hot. Her balmy days were far and few between, cooled by sea breezes. Her relentless sunshine drew in tourists the same way a dollop of honey would draw in ants.

Tropical storms often festered over the ocean, spitting out raindrops the size of marbles. Each year came a handful of cyclone warnings, none of which the residents took too seriously. The worst storms kept to the Coral Sea, with only a few overturned tinnies and swept-away deck chairs falling victim to the winds.

The winter began in May.

The days were shorter and the tourists dried up with the rain. The town quietened, the boats disappeared. Only the heat remained.

When Ciel left his bedroom and padded out into the living room the sun had only been up an hour. It’s pale sunlight was not yet enough to shrug the chill from the apartment he shared with Bard, so the twenty-two-year-old pulled on a sweater.

Their living room was a nest of cushions, records, and house plants. Most of the room was occupied by a long chaise sofa, draped with a woven blanket. The coffee table was stacked with magazines, an ash tray, and the remains of last night’s dinner.

The kitchen was white brick and enchanting in the light of the dawn. On the fridge was a photo of Bard from a time when he didn’t have shadows beneath his eyes. In his arms he held a small but petulant toddler with odd-coloured eyes.

Ciel snorted as he glanced at the polaroid, flicking on the kettle. It came to life with a rattling purr, the only noise in the kitchen beside the cockatoos fussing outside.

He made two cups of coffee, one black and the other thick with milk and sugar. He took the later to the window sill and watched the day begin. The apartment, on the second story of the pub, had the perfect view of the ocean. Ciel pressed his cheek to the glass and gazed at the sea until bare feet padded across the floor behind him.

“Morning,” Bard mumbled, picking up his coffee.

He took a sip. Then he choked. He thumped his chest, coffee spluttering out his mouth and into the stubble on his cheek. Ciel turned his head towards the man and raised one eyebrow.

“Are you trying to fucking kill me?” Bard croaked.

Ciel shrugged. “You could try making your own coffee.”

Bard narrowed his eyes, unimpressed as he wiped his maw. Ciel turned back to the ocean, a jogger catching his eye. The boy sipped at his coffee, face warm as he realised the man running was Sebastian.

“Typical Sydney-sider,” Bard huffed.

Ciel swallowed, tracking the police officer’s impressive shoulders as they bobbed with his movements. He could see sweat on the man’s shirt, the muscles in his arms thick and tight as he passed by.

“Because he works out?”

“I work out,” Bard muttered.

Ciel offered a hum in response. Bard _did_ work out. It was his only healthy form of therapy. Biceps like Bard’s didn’t grow naturally. Like diamonds, they hardened under stress.

“I don’t like that guy,” Bard said, coaxing a sigh from Ciel.

 _You don’t like anyone_ , Ciel thought.

The blonde added a sub-vocal grumble before shuffling off into the living room, taking a long sip of the coffee he supposedly hated. When he sat down he cursed, leaping up again and yanking something out from under his ass.

“What the fuck is this shit?”

Ciel forced himself to look away from Sebastian’s strong back, disappearing as he advanced along the boardwalk. He sighed, switching his sights to the pissed off blonde. In his hand he held a tacky, red magazine - a naked man posing lewdly on the cover.

“Isn’t mine,” Ciel said sweetly, pressing his lips together.

He practically heard Bard’s teeth grind. The blonde squeezed the magazine so hard it crumpled - then he launched it across the living room, pages fanning out like bird’s wings. To Bard’s chagrin it landed on its spine, spilling open to reveal a plethora of muscly, naked men.

“You’ll be the fucking death of me!” The blonde growled, slurping a spiteful mouth of coffee.

Ciel hid his laugh against his coffee mug, glancing back at the photograph on the fridge. When he took his next sip he smiled, knowing what Bard said and what Bard _felt_ were often entirely different things.

 

………………………………………………………………………………………….

 

 

The police station in Nowhere was shadowed by a monolithic gum tree.

The tree was so tall that Sebastian was convinced if it were to fall the single-story station would be obliterated beneath the weight of it's knotted, grey arms.

Now, as Sebastian stood at the reception desk staring at a cheap Daffy Duck figurine blu-tacked to the computer monitor, he realised the destruction of Nowhere’s only station would be no great tragedy.

The receptionist behind the computer could not have been older than twenty. The single chevron on his sleeve told Sebastian he was a constable, but his long, blonde hair tied into a salt-curled bun told him the kid was a surfer, too.

The only sound in the room was the clack of off-white computer keys and the chew of bubblegum. The boy occasionally glanced up from his computer, narrowing his eyes as if to try and figure out why Sebastian looked so familiar to him.

“Hey,” said the blonde, bursting a bubble between his teeth.

Sebastian didn’t look at him. He stared past the Daffy Duck figurine and at the door Benjamin Glenn should emerge any moment from.

“You look familiar,” the blonde said, eyes wide, the same colour as his shirt. “Aren't you that cop who-”

The kid was cut off when the door swung open, Ben striding through the door with a grin already on his face.

“Sebastian!” He beamed, clapping his hand against the man’s shoulder. “We weren’t expecting you until nine.”

Sebastian gave a polite smile, half-irked by the fingers squeezing the meat of his shoulder.

“I like an early start,” he said, unable to admit he’d been awake since dawn.

“And I like that attitude,” Ben grinned. “I see you've already met our Finnian.”

The blonde stood and Sebastian was surprised at how petite the kid was. He extended his hand to meet Finnian's but stopped short when he noticed the boy's arm ended beneath his elbow. His sleeve was pinned in place there, disguising the dismemberment.

“Croc,” the blonde said solemnly, noticing when Sebastian’s eyes dropped to his arm.

Ben smacked the back of the blonde’s head, knocking a surprised _ooph_ from his mouth. He ruffled blonde locks in apology, pulling them from their bun while his face widened in a ruddy grin.

“Don’t listen to him,” Ben said to Sebastian. “Kid lost it in an accident when he was young. Isn’t that right?”

He pinched at Finnian’s cheek with all the familiarity of a father and Sebastian was both charmed and annoyed at the breach of professionalism. The blonde only smiled, stuffing a new stick of gum between his teeth with his only hand.

“Rollover,” Finnian added.

Sebastian had a sudden memory of broken glass and crumpled steel. He smelt blood and petrichor, the road slick with both, and saw his hand, black with -

“I’m sorry,” Sebastian forced.

Finnian shrugged. “I’m not.”

He smiled and his face was void of trauma in a way that suggested the boy was no longer plagued by the horrific memory. A bead of envy worked its way under Sebastian’s rib.

Ben took Sebastian on a tour of the station. It was just as small and plain as it looked on the outside, with a tacky break room the same size as the one-man holding cell. Eventually they reached an office, the room divided with partitions.

“Kip,” Ben pointed out, the man raising his chin in lieu of greeting. “Over there is Chloe, and to her left is Kauri, and in the corner is Taylor.”

“But we all call him Snake,” Finnian piped in, who had been trailing them the entire tour.

“No, we do _not_ ,” said Ben.

Sebastian glanced over at Taylor, who had a shock of white hair and alabaster eyelashes. He kept his eyes lowered, disinterested in the new police officer as he scratched notes into a sheet.

“Why do you call him that?” Sebastian asked.

Ben shrugged. “Taylor likes snakes.”

“Ah.”

The other officer’s desks were decorated with trinkets, photo frames and stacks of paper, but when Ben left Sebastian at his new desk, he saw the surface was clean. All that sat on the slightly chipped wood was a computer and a small, spiky pot plant.

“Want a coffee, new guy?”

Sebastian glanced up to see the officer named Kauri, leaning on the hallway threshold with an empty coffee mug in his hand. The man was just as wide as he was tall, with brown hair, brown eyes, and brown skin.

“No thank you,” Sebastian said. “I don’t drink coffee.”

“Really?” Finnian blurted, resting his elbow on the back of Sebastian’s chair. “I thought I saw you at Bean Scene yester-”

Kauri cut Finnian off with a snort.

“Finny,” he chided. “People don’t go to Bean Scene for the _coffee_.”

Kauri came forward so he could place his hands on Sebastian’s desk, leaning in so he could speak in a loud whisper. Sebastian flicked his eyes up his thick arms, both biceps wrapped in thick Maori tattoos.

“So which one is it?” Kauri asked. “Lis or Ciel? Because I’ve had my eye on the blonde for a while now.”

Someone huffed, and when Sebastian glanced up he saw the woman named Chloe peeking over her partition.

“Think she bats for the other team,” she said, narrowing her grey eyes.

“N-neither,” Sebastian forced himself to say.

Kauri’s smile only widened, his thick and well-shaped lips quirking up into a smirk. He straightened up and laughed, his dark eyes bright and playful.

“Sure,” he grinned. “Look mate, I think _a lot_ of people get coffee from Ciel Delacroix, if you know what I’m saying.”

Kauri winked in a way that made Sebastian’s heart sink.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

The dark-eyed man shrugged, picking his mug up off Sebastian’s desk.

“I’m just saying,” he repeated. “I’ve heard things about that boy.”

Chloe made another noise, still watching over the divider.

“ _Tamihana_ ,” she warned.

Kauri shot her a look and didn’t bother to lower his voice when he spoke next.

“You know what the difference between Delacroix and the Titanic is?”

Sebastian pushed his tongue into his cheek and didn’t breathe.

“They know how many men went down on the Titanic,” Kauri finished.

He winked again, then laughed at his own joke. Then he left, still smirking as he sauntered down the hall into the break room.

“Don’t listen to him,” Chloe said, glaring in the same direction.

Sebastian nodded, sinking down into his chair. He stared at the little, spiky plant and exhaled loudly through his nose.

 

………………………………………………………………………………………….

 

 

The day moved like molasses.

Life in Nowhere was set at a pace Sebastian had trouble slowing down for. The senior constable found himself sighing most the morning, picking at the edge of his desk while he struggled to keep busy.

By the time noon rolled around he was eager for a walk, his leg tight from being cooped up at his desk. The day outside was pretty and warm and Sebastian found himself heading for the pub before he realised what he was doing.

The miasma of alcohol came like a warning, gentle but potent. The policeman paused at the stairs and squeezed his fist, sick and nostalgic at the smell.

As he forced himself to pass the pub he heard the _clink_ of a glass bottle hitting the concrete, and a soft curse echo from the alleyway.

He looked up to see Ciel Delacroix struggling to hoist a crowded box of beer bottles into the trash. Sebastian rushed forward, supporting the weight of the bottles with his arms before tipping them into the bin.

Ciel’s slightly flushed face was just as alarming as the loud cascade of bottles as they hit the bin. His hair was swept back from his brow and even his darkest eye looked bright in the afternoon sun.

“Thanks officer,” he grinned.

When he smiled his dimples settled either side of his pink mouth, and Sebastian had trouble remembering why he was having a bad day.

“Guess I owe you a drink,” Ciel said. “Lemonade though, right?”

The boy cocked his head, his smiling falling just the slightest, and Sebastian wondered if he knew why he couldn’t drink.

“Right,” Sebastian forced himself to say.

Against his better judgement he followed Ciel inside the pub, wrinkling his nose at the familiar smell. It was completely empty inside, the ceiling fans giving a mechanical _whir_ as they spun the ocean breeze from out the windows.

“First day on the job?” Ciel asked from behind the bar, Sebastian settling on a stool.

“Yeah.”

“You meet Finny?”

Sebastian nodded. “And that snake guy, too.”

He didn’t mention Kauri. He didn’t mention the joke he’d told either.

Ciel smiled, taking a soda can from the fridge. Sebastian could see the scar on the back of his hand and wondered how he got it.

“He’ll let you touch one if you ask him.”

Sebastian made a face. “I won’t.”

Lemonade frothed and bubbled as it reached the top of the glass, ice cubes bumping against the edge. Ciel sat a plastic animal on the rim, this time a yellow giraffe.

“Must be different from Sydney,” Ciel said, wistfully.

Sebastian nodded, sipping at his drink. It tasted like Ciel’s company - light and bubbly. The boy watched as he drank, his chin resting on his delicate hand.

“Nice tan,” he commented, dropping his unusual eyes to the back of Sebastian’s hand.

Sebastian looked too so he could examine the pale band of skin around his wedding finger.

“Oh,” he mumbled. “My husband was, um. Really traditional.”

“Husband,” Ciel echoed, voice soft.

“Ex-husband,” Sebastian forced himself to say.

Ciel’s face hardened, his dimples melting away to give room for his tense jaw. He lifted his eyes from Sebastian’s ring-less hand and pressed his lips into a line.

He looked as if he wanted to say something, his eyebrows meeting in a sympathetic frown, but he was interrupted by a low, rude voice.

“Didn’t know you were taking your annual leave.”

Bard’s voice was like sandpaper. Sebastian bristled at the sound of it, instinctually sitting up and away from Ciel. The boy rolled his eyes, his own hand tightening on the counter.

“I was just showing Sebastian the menu,” he lied, voice thick with honey.

Bard’s eyes narrowed, locking onto Sebastian like the scope on a gun.

“Sure,” he grit. “Wanna hear the chef’s recommendations?”

The blonde walked between the bar and the counter, leaning his hands on the surface. He was wearing a singlet and Sebastian could see every one of his golden muscles, bunched up as if he were teaming for a fight.

“ _Bard_ ,” Ciel warned.

Still tense from last night’s dream, Sebastian mirrored Bard and planted his hands on the counter. He leaned in, eyes narrowed as he stood to his full height.

“I’m game,” he muttered, looking down his nose.

Bard huffed, pulling out a pair of glasses and making a show of cleaning them before he put them on. Then he swiped a bar menu from the counter and pretended to read from it, teeth displayed as he tensed his stubbled maw.

“How does _Get The Fuck Out of My Pub_ sound?”

Sebastian snorted. Ciel slapped the blonde’s arm with the flat of his hand.

“Stop that!” He hissed. “Take those stupid glasses off, they hurt your eyes.”

Bard’s ears reddened as he jerked back, dispelled by the nasty smack to his shoulder. He shot Ciel a filthy look, and then Sebastian an even filthier one.

“I’m warning you,” he muttered to the cop.

Ciel’s face was pink from embarrassment by the time the blonde left, who took a cold beer from the fridge before he went. The boy buried his face into his hands and swore, fringe falling over his fingers.

“I’m… _so_ sorry,” Ciel sighed.

Sebastian stared in the direction Bard had gone, still tense in anticipation of a fight. He dropped his eyes to the giraffe sitting on his glass and tapped it with a shaking finger.

“It’s not a problem,” he lied.

Ciel peeked at him between his fingers. His blush had sunk all the way down to his throat and if Sebastian had been a bolder man he might have told Ciel he was cute.

“He’s so embarrassing,” Ciel said.

He released another loud sigh, raising his face from his hands. He sunk his chin into his palm and scratched at his nose piercing.

“He’s…” Ciel trailed off, staring at the counter. Then he shook his head, waving his free hand dismissively. “Let me make it up to you.”

“You already got me a lemonade.”

Ciel smiled, slow and shy.

“That’s nothing,” he said. “Have you had an official tour of the town yet?”

Sebastian looked down at Ciel’s mouth, then watched as the boy’s dimples suckered into his fair flesh.

“No.”

Ciel’s smile widened, his dimples deepened. Sebastian’s heart gave a Pavlovian response, thudding wildly behind his badge.

“What time do you knock off?”

“Four.”

“Alright. Meet me at the pier at four - I’ll show you around, like a local.”

Ciel winked, and Sebastian’s heart flopped about like a beached fish. A thousand reasons why this was a terrible idea all bubbled to the surface of his mind, but his selfish heart answered for him.

“Alright.”

Ciel smiled like sunshine incarnate. When he turned his back Sebastian took the plastic giraffe from his drink and slipped it into his pocket.

He would sit it on the windowsill at home beside the red monkey and the umbrella Ciel had given him the first day they had met.

 

………………………………………………………………………………………….

 

 

Sebastian met Ciel where the town met the sea.

The boy waited for him at the pier wearing a long-sleeved shirt and cargo shorts that exposed his coltish thighs. He didn’t wear socks with his sneakers, and around one thin ankle was a braided band.

“Nice shirt,” Ciel said, glancing down at his chest.

Sebastian plucked at the fabric, feeling wordless. He’d changed into a t-shirt when he left the station and even run his fingers through his slicked back hair so he wouldn’t look so stiff.

It felt unromantic to tell the boy that the shirt had belonged to his ex-husband, so Sebastian kept his mouth shut. _It shouldn’t feel romantic anyway_ , he told himself, _because this isn’t a date_.

Without the bar between them Ciel only came to Sebastian’s shoulder, and he smelt more of cologne than he did of beer. His hair had a lazy curl to it, as effortless and cool as Ciel’s smile.

The boy gave a little nudge to his side, seemingly entertained by his silence. His easy aura made Sebastian’s shoulders fall, and he gave the smallest hint of a smile.

“Nice shoes,” Sebastian said.

Ciel’s mouth broke into a laugh, his elbow smacking Sebastian’s side again. His shoes were horrible - the white base of his Converse sneaker yellow and thin with age.

“Come on,” he smiled, jerking his head towards the oceanside footpath. “Lets get this tour started, officer.”

Sebastian followed obediently.

“There’s only two things you need to know about Nowhere,” Ciel started, turning around so he was walking backwards up the path. “The first is you should _never_ get Nasi Goreng from Noodletopia. You’ll get food poisoning.”

Sebastian shot a look towards the garish red noodle house.

“Ah.”

“And the second,” Ciel continued, “Is that you should never visit the caves on a Friday night.”

“The caves?”

Ciel nodded. “The limestone caves. Do you like bats?”

Sebastian screwed up his face. “No.”

“Oh,” Ciel said, smiling so he showed his teeth. “You’d definitely like it, then.”

Sebastian laughed, and Ciel spun around so he could face the footpath again. Sebastian watched the waves crash against the sand, the water spanning as far as he could see.

“Have you been out to the reef?” He asked.

“No,” Ciel sighed, staring at the horizon too. “I don’t really _go_ anywhere. Bard, he’s…” Ciel trailed off. “Protective.”

Sebastian didn’t know what to say. He stared at the side of Ciel’s head, his hands stuffed dumbly in his pockets.

“Anyway,” the boy said after a bit, shaking the thought away like flies, “I heard the best snorkelling is on Waxflower Island.”

“Where the massacre happened?”

Ciel nodded.

“It’s a bit of a local legend around here. Do you know much about it?”

“I _am_ a cop,” Sebastian shrugged.

Ciel’s distant look turned to a small, cheeky smile. His eyes brightened, his hand darting out to give a squeeze to Sebastian’s arm.

“Then tell me some top secret cop knowledge.”

Sebastian blinked at the pretty fingers on his skin, his heart working its way into his throat. Encouraged by the warm touch he matched Ciel’s grin with a smirk.

“What will you give me in return?” He asked.

Ciel rolled his eyes, his nose wrinkling when he smiled. He tucked back a strand of his slate grey hair and glanced out at the water.

“I’ll make it worth your while,” he promised.

He started to walk and Sebastian followed like a dog after meat, his eyes locked on the lovely boy and his mismatched eyes.

“I… It’s been a while since I read the case file,” Sebastian started. “But from what I remember there were four deaths - a man, a woman, and infant twins.”

“But it wasn’t just any family,” Ciel said.

“No, you’re right. It was Vincent Phantomhive’s - the most infamous mob boss in East Asia.”

“Head of the Sugimoto clan,” Ciel added.

Sebastian nodded.

“Did you know he was the first _oyabun_ of mixed ethnicity in the Yakuza? His mother was Japanese, father English. They died in the Fukui earthquake the year that he was born - the same earthquake that took Hansuke Sugimoto’s infant son.”

“I didn’t know that,” Ciel breathed, his eyes wide with interest.

Sebastian’s chest flooded with pride. He shrugged, turning his face a little so Ciel wouldn’t see the way he smiled to himself.

“He considered Vincent his own son. A lot of people were unhappy when Hansuke made him head of the clan.”

“Is that why the Yakuza killed his family?”

Sebastian shook his head.

“No. It was all over a girl.”

Ciel’s eyes widened, stopping on the footpath. Behind him the sky had brightened to a pretty pink but it couldn’t hold a candle to the way the boy looked up at him.

“A girl,” Ciel echoed in awe.

“An Australian girl,” Sebastian said. “It was said they fell in love on first sight and were engaged in under a month. But the clan had no respect for her. They say Phantomhive killed one of his own clan for laying a hand on his bride.”

Ciel made a face that Sebastian could not decipher.

“The clan turned against their own _oyabun_. Vincent fled with the girl, and together they managed to live in secrecy for a handful of years.”

“Until the Yakuza found them,” Ciel finished.

Sebastian nodded. Ciel sighed, shaking his head at the sea.

“Y’know, if I’d known talking about gang-related murders was the key to getting you to talk more -I would have asked sooner.”

Sebastian felt himself blush, Ciel’s eyes following the colour as the sun kissed the horizon behind his back.

‘Sorry,” Sebastian said, shaking his head.

He made a sound halfway between a laugh and a sigh, lifting his hand to rub at the back of his neck. Ciel frowned, his own hand coming forward to touch Sebastian’s elbow.

“Don’t say sorry,” he warned. “I like listening to you talk.”

Sebastian didn’t lift his eyes from the pavement in fear that his frantic heart would reveal itself if he looked at Ciel. Instead he nodded, forcing his mouth into a lop-sided smile.

“I think you promised me something,” Sebastian said.

He only lifted his eyes when it was safe, Ciel’s head whipping around to watch the sun sink down behind the sea. His hand fell from Sebastian’s elbow to his wrist, wrapping around his palm so their fingers intertwined. He tugged the policeman up the small slope they stood on until they overlooked the ocean.

Ciel let go of his hand when they reached the cliff but his pinky finger stayed close enough to brush Sebastian’s. Behind them the town flickered to life, street lights shuddering on one by one.

But Ciel didn’t look, his eyes transfixed on the golden path of sunlight meeting water.

“Isn’t that the best thing you’ve ever seen?” He asked, turning to flash Sebastian a quick smile.

When he looked back Sebastian admired the feminine slope of his nose, and the way his dimples manifested as the sunset bled into the sea. His hair ruffled in the breeze and his cheeks matched the salmon spill of colour as the sky began to pale.

“Yeah,” Sebastian said, not looking at the sun.

 

………………………………………………………………………………………….

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked this chapter PLEASE leave a kudos (and a comment would be beautiful, I would love to know your favourite part)!
> 
> Also, come talk to me on Tumblr: bun-o-ween
> 
> My ask box is eating asks that have a "..." in them, so if I have not answered any of your questions it may be because of that. I would love to hear from y'all! :D
> 
>  
> 
> P.S. No, Ciel does not know he is Vincent's son.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, worked very hard on this one. Delayed updating because I wanted it to be a good chapter. Please let me know what your favourite part was! It would make my day x

 

 

**1980**

 

The kid had something on his mind.

Bard could tell. The six-year-old had a crease between his eyebrows and it could only mean one thing.

“How'd my family die?”

Bard paused with his hand on the fridge door. The blonde exhaled and yanked the freezer open, breathing in the icy air. It was forty-two degrees outside - too hot for questions like that.

“Icy-pole?” Bard asked.

He peered over the freezer door and saw Ciel nod. The kid had an affinity for grape-flavoured icy-poles that summer and Bard hoped to use one to his advantage.

Flakes of water crumbled off the Zooper Dooper bag as he fished one out, snipping off the end before handing it to Ciel. The kid gave the snack a thoughtful suck but the crease didn’t disappear from his brow.

He was a cute enough kid.

His cheeks were soft and chubby, his eyelashes doe-like and thick. When he was happy dimples suckered into his fair skin. When he was worried he chewed at his lip.

Today his mouth was bitten red.

“How did they die?” Ciel asked again.

Bard leaned against the kitchen counter and stared at the kid. He was waiting patiently for an answer, melted ice bleeding into the stomach of the striped t-shirt Ciel had picked out for himself.

 _Thank God_ , Bard thought. He didn’t know how to dress a six-year-old.

He didn’t know how to speak to one, either. That was Rose's job. His sister always had a way with kids.

“In a fire,” Bard finally said.

Ciel blinked, then stuck the icy-pole back into his chewed mouth. He made a sage sound, his frown deepening. Bard reached for his cigarettes.

“Who lit the fire?”

Bard didn’t look back at the kid until he had a smoke smouldering between his teeth. He rolled it to one side of his mouth and at the same time rolled his shoulders. They were tight. His entire body hurt these days.

“Bad men,” he told the kid.

They'd already covered this. Had this conversation before – a hundred times.

Bard leaned over the sink to exhale his smoke out the window, feeling guilty he was smoking inside. Ciel didn't seem to mind. He was thinking, that incredible little brain clocking over beneath a head of silvery hair.

“Are they going to kill us too?” Ciel asked.

Bard sucked in another draw and closed his eyes.

“No,” he groaned. “Not unless they find us.”

 _Fuck_. He shouldn’t have said that.

He watched as Ciel nodded, a calm but serious expression that was years beyond his age.

“They killed aunt Rose,” the kid said next, not a question.

Ciel didn’t have his accent anymore. The faint, odd little lilt to his words. A dead giveaway that Ciel wasn’t Bard’s kid. That Ciel wasn’t born in Australia. That Ciel belonged to someone else.

Rose thought it was cute. Bard thought it was evidence.

Ciel’s accent was gone but Bard knew the kid still understood the language. Sometimes he caught him watching cartoons - those weird Japanese ones they aired on the foreign channel.

He was too smart to lie to.

“They killed aunt Rose,” Bard repeated, stubbing his smoke into the soap dish on the windowsill.

Bard was twenty but felt three times older. His body ached. His heart cried. His life wasn’t supposed to be this way. Ciel wasn’t his kid. He was Rose's.

The thought of her made the blonde’s heart seize up. He clenched his fist and swallowed. He reached for his smokes and then stopped. He couldn’t have more than one a day – couldn’t afford it. Kids were expensive.

“Why did they kill her?”

Ciel's cheek was sticky, his fingers too. Bard wet a cloth and kneeled down, thumbing at the syrup on the boy's face. Ciel screwed his nose up but he waited, batting mismatched eyes up at the blonde.

 _Because of you_ , Bard thought to himself.

There was a kernel of resentment that sat underneath the man’s rib. He felt it when he breathed. He felt it when he looked at Ciel. It was hot and it was hard, and it reminded him that the little boy had been the one to cause his sister’s death.

What was he supposed to tell the kid?

It was too big. Too complicated. The kid’s mind, no matter how complex, was too young. Bard struggled to understand the situation, how could he ask a six-year-old to do the same?

Like he could read the thoughts on the blonde’s face, the frown between Ciel’s eyebrows slipped away. The boy’s face softened and he smacked his sticky mouth together. He combed back a tuft of hair, dragging syrup through the strands.

“Can I watch cartoons?” He asked.

Bard let go of a long, heavy breath. For a second he just sat there, squatting in front of the kid with a damp washcloth in his hand. He hung his head and rubbed the back of his stiff neck, collecting all the sweat that had gathered during the hot, summer’s day.

“Sure, kid.”

He offered his hand to the boy and when his chubby fingers intertwined with hard and calloused palm, Bard knew he could do better. He’d protect this this kid his whole damned life.

No matter what it took.

………………………………………………………………………………………….

 

 

Sebastian watched the blue bar move across the screen.

His tea had gone cold waiting for the file to download. He'd had it emailed to him from Sydney with a little sweet-talking to a colleague from his old station.

It was his third night without sleep.

Sebastian pressed his thumbs into the shadows beneath his eyes, head tense from the light of the monitor. He took off his glasses and shifted his thumbs into his temple, exhaling.

 _Beep_.

The house was silent but for the whir of the computer. Sebastian double-clicked the file, tapping his fingers as he waited for it to load. A black-and-white image appeared on the screen, loading line by line.

 _Vincent Phantomhive_ , it read. _Kyoto, 1969_.

The young, handsome man had his cheek turned towards the camera, dark hair slicked off his face. He held a drink in one hand and although the photo was grainy Sebastian could make out the tattoos that covered Vincent’s knuckles, fingers and throat.

Sebastian scrolled down to a second photo, a slightly older Vincent standing with a man Sebastian recognised. Hansuke Sugimoto, the famed Yakuza head. The image was blurry, both men walking when it was shot.

The third photo was labelled _Rachel, 1972_.

This photo was in colour and for the first time Sebastian saw the muted reds and blacks that decorated Vincent’s arms. He wore sunglasses, the corner of his mouth curved up. The woman next to him had banana-yellow hair and big, blue eyes, face speckled with the shadow of a straw hat.

Sebastian flicked his eyes down to where Vincent’s tattooed arm curled around Rachel’s little waist and saw that his pinkie finger was severed from the knuckle down.

The fourth photo was taken at Waxflower Island.

Sebastian had seen it many times. It was infamous - the burned out shell of Vincent’s secret mansion, the blackened palm trees, the smear of blood beside the pool.

 _1978_ , it said. _The bodies of Vincent Phantomhive, his wife Rachel, and their two sons are discovered slain on an island 180km off the Queensland coast_.

Below was an attachment about an incident that occurred two days after the massacre. A small police station on Wattle Beach was set alight - killing two officers and one civilian. A third officer’s body was never recovered.

The fire and the deaths were not reported for several days due to Wattle Beach becoming cut off from the mainland during flood season. The perpetrators were not caught but many investigators believed the two incidents to be tied.

Sebastian scrolled through the photos of the charred police station then back up to the images of the Phantomhive mansion. In one photo sat a tiny, blue bear, a burn mark above its satin bow. It sat half submerged in a puddle amongst the blackened rafters of the house.

Sebastian had a sudden, painful memory of a little, pink shoe with a daisy on the buckle.

He forced himself to click out of the case file, pushing away from his desk. He took off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes again. Pink light fell across his desk, the soft glow of the dawn coming in through the window.

Sebastian stood up, taking his cold tea to the kitchen. The grey line of the ocean was still, the hibiscus gently bobbing. The morning smelt like salt and sand. By all accounts Sebastian should have been relaxed.

Instead he poured his tea down the drain, letting the dregs slip away like the wasted hours of his sleepless night.

………………………………………………………………………………………….

 

 

Sebastian’s therapist advised that he should quit coffee.

He said that coffee was an irritant. That it would do nothing for the PTSD that riddled Sebastian’s daily duties and only serve to make it worse. In theory it sounded good - to have peace of mind, to be able to sleep at night.

But in practice, on days when Sebastian hadn’t slept a wink despite it, he felt like his therapist had cut him off from anything that ever made him happy.

Coffee. Alcohol. Even cigarettes.

As Sebastian crossed the street towards the coffee cart he could see Lisbeth’s surfboard propped up against it. The bubblegum pink surface was speckled with salt, and its owner sat in a camp chair squeezing water out of her thick, blonde hair.

Ciel was working behind the counter, his laugh loud and clear from across the road. As Sebastian got closer he saw Bard there too. To the officer’s surprise, the chef was smiling.

The blonde’s mouth was quirked up and the lines around his eyes were less severe. His shoulders softened as Ciel spoke, his pale, blue eyes bright with mirth.

That expression fell immediately when Bard spotted Sebastian.

His face screwed up like he’d smelt something rotten and a scowl set in place around his jaw. He straightened up and locked eyes with the officer, thick arms crossed over his chest.

“I’m gonna go,” he muttered to Ciel.

Ciel looked up too and saw Sebastian. He was wearing sunglasses but his mouth quirked up, dimples threatening to bite into his cheeks.

“Don’t forget your coffee,” he told the blonde.

Before Bard could leave the boy pushed a cardboard cup into his clenched hand and grabbed a fistful of his shirt. He used it as an anchor to draw the tall man down to his height, then planted a dry kiss into Bard’s unshaved cheek.

Bard made a sub-vocal noise then walked away, his thongs slapping up the timber stairs that flanked the outside of the pub.

“Coffee?” Ciel said.

Sebastian looked away from Bard’s hunched shoulders and nodded at the boy. He looked nice, like usual, a salmon shirt tucked into his coffee-dusted apron, the same colour as his mouth.

“Cow milk?”

“M-hm.”

Ciel huffed out his nose and shook his head. He smacked a button on the machine, the metal rumbling to life with a hiss of steam.

“He’s in a good mood today,” Sebastian said.

Ciel glanced up above the rim of his glasses and screwed up his nose. He followed Sebastian’s gesture to the man heading upstairs, then shrugged.

“He’s always in a good mood,” Ciel said.

It was followed immediately by the sound of Bard opening a screen-door, then letting it slam shut. Sebastian wanted to laugh.

“Didn’t see you at yoga this morning,” said a voice from beside him.

Sebastian stepped back to look at Lis, her own sunglasses iridescent. She grinned, twisted one side of her hair into a braid.

“Yeah _Steven_ ,” Ciel chimed in. “Why weren’t you at yoga this morning?”

His voice was sweet and sour, just like the cheeky way his mouth curled up. Sebastian narrowed his eyes and handed over some gold coins for his latte.

“One day,” he promised the girl.

Ciel shook his head again, handing over a coffee cup with a little _S_ scrawled on the lid. He watched Sebastian take a sip, hands resting on his hips.

“How’s that?” He asked.

The boy lowered his sunnies to gauge the man’s answer. Sebastian sighed, muscles unknotting at the first sip of the frothy milk.

“S’good,” he murmured.

He took another sip and watched as Ciel smiled. The boy’s eyes were especially bright in the morning and Sebastian couldn’t help but stare over the plastic lip of his drink. The kid noticed, tucking back a strand of his silvery hair.

“What?” He frowned.

“Has anyone ever told you that you kinda look like David Bowie?”

Ciel’s expression flattened. He rolled his eyes and to Sebastian’s great displeasure, pushed his sunglasses back up his nose.

“I’ve literally never been told that before,” he drawled, voice thick with sarcasm.

From beside them, Lisbeth snorted.

………………………………………………………………………………………….

 

 

“Oi, new guy.”

Sebastian looked up from his work to see Kauri leaning over his desk. His arms were folded on the partition that split their work areas, thick and tattooed, a biro lid sticking out of his mouth.

“You wanna take the night shift?”

Before Sebastian could answer there was a groan from the opposite partition. The petite, brunette cop named Chloe poked her head over the side and shot a thin-eyed glare at Kauri.

“No one wants the night shift, Tamihana.”

Kauri scoffed and ignored her, smacking Sebastian’s shoulder to get his attention again. Sebastian stared at his empty coffee cup, wishing it would magically re-fill.

“Don’t listen to her - night shift’s the best.”

“Then why don’t _you_ do it?” Chloe bit.

Kauri opened his mouth to argue and Sebastian felt his chest tighten in anticipation for an argument he hadn’t had enough coffee to deal with yet.

“When the shift?” He interrupted.

“Nine til three.”

Sebastian sat back in his chair and thought about what he usually did between those hours. The past week he’d sat alone in his house, flicking through the channels on his muted television set.

“Sure,” he finally agreed. “I’ll do it.”

Kauri grinned and punched Sebastian’s arm again, making a wicked face at Chloe as the woman shook her head.

“Nice choice, new guy.”

Sebastian forced a smile and Kauri went back to his own desk. Chloe followed him with her eyes, jaw set into a displeased line.

“I don’t mind,” Sebastian assured her. “I could really use the distraction.”

Chloe’s eyes lowered to where Sebastian sat and they softened. She gave a sympathetic nod that told Sebastian she knew about his traumatic, _widely-publicised_ past - a nod that Sebastian was both annoyed and grateful for.

“I’m gonna order lunch,” he cleared his throat, uncomfortable with the silence and the staring. “You want something from the pub?”

Chloe pursued her lips, flicking her ponytail over her blue collar.

“No thanks,” she said. “I lost my appetite when Tamihana came over here.”

Sebastian smirked at Chloe before she sunk down to her desk. The officer sat a little straighter in his chair, a Pavilion response to the thought of Ciel picking up the phone. The kid was effortlessly sweet and like a fool Sebastian was already infatuated with how nice Ciel made him feel.

His heart sank when a gruff voice picked up instead.

“The Criterion, this is Bard.”

Sebastian held his breath. A long, long silence passed. _This is stupid_ , he told himself. _You’re a police officer_.

“Uh, hey,” he forced out. “It’s Constable Michaelis, calling for a take-away order.”

He bit his lip when a hollow laugh came down the line.

“Y’know,” the blonde said, “For a guy that doesn’t drink, you sure come here a lot.”

Sebastian didn’t know what to say so he held his tongue. His silence seemed to piss Bard off even more, his next words a little lower, a little rougher.

“But you don’t come in here to drink, do you?”

Sebastian swallowed.

“I get it,” the blonde continued. “He’s beautiful. I know that. You’re not the first piece of shit who’s noticed it either.”

Sebastian exhaled, angling his mouth from the receiver so the blonde wouldn’t hear his breath.

“But I need you to stay away from my kid, got it?”

Sebastian blushed. He glanced up to see if anyone in the office was looking at him. He curled his fingers into his arm rest until the leather creaked.

“I’m not-”

Bard cut him off. “I’m serious, Michaelis. Back away or you’ll regret it.”

Sebastian clenched his jaw. He exhaled then shifted the receiver closer to his mouth.

“Threatening a police officer?” He growled back. “You don’t want to play this game with me.”

Bard barked out another laugh, the noise rattling down the plastic phone.

“I don’t give a fuck about who you are!” He hissed. “I’m not letting some alcoholic, suicidal fucking _cop_ near my family.”

The words hit Sebastian like a punch to the stomach. The man pressed his lips together, a vice wrapped around his heart and lungs, a lump in his throat.

“You have no idea what I’d do for that kid,” Bard added.

Then the line went dead.

For a long time Sebastian could do nothing but listen to the static of the silent phone. Bard’s words rattled over and over in his head like a skipping record, thumping out of time with his frantic pulse.

 _Back away or you’ll regret it_.

Sebastian shook his head. That was a warning - a serious one. Sebastian’s mind told him to report it, to default right into police-mode.

But his gut told him that he’d deserved it. Bard was right. He was just a pathetic divorcé mooning over some pretty kid he’d known for only a week.

 _You have no idea what I’d do for that kid_.

The words stood out like a bright, red flag.

 _Unhealthy_ , was the first word that came to Sebastian’s mind. Ciel was an adult. Something didn’t feel right about the blonde’s anger - despite how justified it felt to the young man.

On a whim he woke up his computer and bought his database up onto the screen.

 _Delacroix_ , he typed into the search bar. _Bard_.

Sebastian guessed he’d find a slew of minor charges - a petty act that triggered the man’s grudge against the police. The cursor blinked a few times before a sentence appeared on the screen.

 _No search results for Delacroix, Bard found_.

Sebastian frowned. He picked up his phone and dialled reception. Finny picked up after one ring, a smile in his voice.

“What’s up?” He chirped.

“Our system,” Sebastian asked. “Is it up-to-date?”

“Yep,” the blonde replied, smacking his lips. “As current as the city’s are.”

“Ah,” said Sebastian. “Thanks.”

He hung up before Finny could reply, staring at the screen. He chewed at his lip, a frown working its way into his features.

Backspacing the word _Bard_ , Sebastian typed another search into the engine. The screen blinked, the monitor whirring as it loaded its results. When the words popped up onto the screen it did nothing for Sebastian’s mounting concern.

 _No search results for Delacroix, Ciel found_.

………………………………………………………………………………………….

 

 

Sebastian had devastating shoulders.

Ciel spotted them the moment the man walked into the service station. The pale, blue fabric stretched between their impressive span, hard muscles shifting as the officer moved to the fridges up the back.

Ciel held his breath and hid behind the gum aisle.

When Sebastian was on duty he wore his hair slicked back and parted to one side. Ciel wasn’t entirely sure why but the hairstyle and the officer’s polished, tight-laced boots _absolutely_ did it for him.

That, and the way his bicep budged as he pulled the fridge open and took out an iced coffee. It made Ciel’s stomach knot. It made him hungry, and it made his heart physically hurt.

It was past midnight.

After Ciel paid for his cigarettes and fruit-flavoured gum he waited for the cop outside. The night was quiet. The stars were bright. Ciel pressed himself against the brick wall, plastered with old posters. A neon beer sign flickered blue light across his sneakers.

Sebastian’s cruiser was the only car in the lot. Ciel waited until the man walked out of the sliding doors and called out to him.

“Hey.”

Sebastian turned and looked at him. His eyes widened for a moment, then softened. He stared for a long time, like he wasn’t going to come over to Ciel.

The kid felt his face heat up and he felt a little stupid. Sebastian was working. He didn’t have time to hang out with some random, local kid. Ciel wrapped his arm around his stomach and flicked his ashes to the ground.

“Hey,” Sebastian eventually echoed.

He walked over to Ciel and the neon light fell across his face. The officer had the nicest eyes Ciel had ever seen, and a stoicism others might have mistaken for disinterest.

But Ciel saw it for what it was - reservation. Sebastian was shy, and Ciel could see the man had been hurt. Not only in the way his walk held the faintest limp, but in his serious face too.

Pressing his lips together Ciel suppressed a smile. Having Sebastian stand next to him, so close his cologne could be breathed in, felt like successfully trapping a wild rabbit.

A very tall, and very muscular rabbit.

“What are you doing out here?” Sebastian asked.

Ciel looked at his cigarette and shrugged.

“Bad habit,” he confessed. “I don’t usually, I just…”

He trailed off, distracted by Sebastian’s jawline. He had to strain his head up to look him in the eye and, pathetically, Ciel enjoyed that.

“I meant, why are you here so late? It’s almost one, Ciel.”

Ciel’s stomach rolled over when the officer said his name.

“I can’t sleep,” he told the man.

Sebastian leaned against the wall, his shoulder a few inches from Ciel’s. The boy’s eyes moved from his serious face down to his uniform, the patches on his firm bicep, the faint, white scars across his forearm.

He wanted to ask how the man got them but it felt too new. Too fragile.

“Tonight?” Sebastian asked.

Ciel shook his head. “Every night.”

He took a draw of his cigarette and forced himself to look away from the man when he exhaled. When he let go of the smoke it drifted up into the cold, clear sky.

“Me too,” the officer admitted softly.

With his eyes still on the stars, Ciel held out the hand he smoked from and offered it to Sebastian. There was silence, but eventually the man shifted an inch closer. His hand brushed the back of Ciel’s and then his jaw was there, resting on his fingers as he took a draw from the boy’s smoke.

“You’re easily corruptible,” Ciel laughed, allowing himself to look again.

Sebastian was much closer now, eyelashes lowered as he drew the smoke into his body. He flicked his brown eyes up and locked onto Ciel’s when he exhaled, the corner of his mouth giving up the smallest of smirks.

“Smoking’s not against the law,” Sebastian said.

“You sure?”

“I’m sure, China Girl.”

Ciel’s face fell and he smacked Sebastian’s arm. His skin was warm and firm, a teasing kiss against his scarred knuckles.

“ _Ha-ha_ ,” he drawled. “It’s the eyes, right?”

Sebastian shrugged, his smile giving way millimetre by millimetre.

“The cheekbones too,” he told Ciel.

The kid blushed.

“And you dress cool” he admitted.

Ciel looked down at the outfit he wore, the high-waisted corduroy jeans he’d pulled from the donation bin and an old, brown leather jacket of Bard’s.

“You think so?” He laughed, unable to bite back his smile.

Sebastian nodded.

“Yes. I remember being cool and young once, too.”

“You’re not old.”

“I’m twenty-nine.”

“Not old,” Ciel repeated. “I think you’re cool.”

He offered his cigarette to the cop again and this time the man took it from his hand, sticking it between his lips to take a sage draw.

“I’m divorced and I’m an alcoholic,” he said.

Ciel’s heart hurt. He shook his head.

“That’s not-”

“It’s true,” Sebastian shrugged. “Everyone knows by now, right?”

Ciel didn’t know what to say. It _was_ true. Everyone was talking about it. It made Ciel feel sick, thinking of the same rumours the town told about him. True or not, they all hurt the same.

But Ciel was too young and too nervous to say anything helpful to the older, more serious man.

“Why can’t you sleep?”

Ciel knew his question was intrusive and abrupt, but the cold night gave him a formidable courage. It was so silent that Ciel heard the officer swallow over the hum of the neon sign.

“I think too much,” Sebastian said.

Ciel rolled his head to the side and the man was staring at the bitumen, eyebrows pressed together. The smoke between his fingers disintegrated and extinguished. His throat bobbed against the tight collar of his uniform.

“Story of my life,” Ciel said, meaning to sound playful.

But his words, when spoken out loud in an empty service station parking lot, sounded as depressing as their reality.

Sebastian huffed all the same, turning his lovely eyes up toward the boy’s. He gave a sympathetic smile and in the dark it felt just like a gift.

“Give me your hand,” Ciel said.

He fished out a marker from his pocket and then offered his palm out to Sebastian. The cop staring at his hand, hesitating. Perhaps he could feel what Ciel felt, their relationship shifting into dangerous territory.

But eventually he laid his palm across Ciel’s, his calloused hand dwarfing his own. He turned his wrist into the blue light, revealing more of those little, white scars and didn’t flinch when Ciel wrote a string of digits beneath the band of his watch.

“That’s my radio channel,” he told the man. “If you’re up late again you could call me?”

Sebastian stared down at the numbers for long enough that Ciel started to feel silly again. He wet his lips while the man looked, goosebumps on his neck from the midnight breeze.

“That would be nice,” Sebastian eventually said.

Ciel didn’t know if the man only said it to be polite, but when their eyes met again the man was smiling, so the boy returned the gesture.

“Cool,” the boy breathed.

And if his hand held Sebastian’s a little longer than what was appropriate, the police officer didn’t say a thing.

………………………………………………………………………………………….

 

 

It was Kauri who placed the next lunch order.

Ciel answered the phone, not only to Sebastian's relief but to the man who called as well. It didn't surprise Sebastian that Bard would have a problem with Kauri Tamihana, too.

The day was warm enough for them to walk over to the pub together, and when they got there Ciel was wiping down the bar. He wore a shirt that didn't cover up his navel, and both officers eyes flitted down to the strip of soft skin between it and the courdory jeans.

“Hey Delacroix,” Kauri purred. “Where’s your girlfriend today?”

Ciel dropping his rag and sighed, expression falling when Kauri walked in.

“Wouldn’t you like to know," he groaned.

The boy walked out to the kitchen and came back with a plastic bag stacked up with their order.

"We ran out of onion rings," Ciel explained to Sebastian, offering up a little smile, "so I gave you extra chips instead."

Sebastian couldn't help but mirror with his own smile, widening as he watched Ciel's coy dimples appear.

“Thanks, Ciel.”

“Where’s my extra chips?” Kauri piped up.

Ciel groaned and tucked back his hair, ducking down to take a sip from a can of soda, plastic straw sticking out the top.

"See you later," Sebastian said, not willing to stick around and see if the pub's chef would come out of the kitchen. "Thanks again."

"Any time," Ciel said, chewing at his straw.

"Be careful with those teeth," Kauri told him before they left.

He winked, and Sebastian watched the kid's face go pale.

“What did you mean by that?” Sebastian asked, once they'd started walking back to the station.

“Hm?”

“Careful with those teeth - what did that mean?”

Kauri glanced up with a hot chip hanging out of his mouth and grinned so hard it fell out. He left it on the pavement and clasped Sebastian’s arm, chip grease and all.

‘Can’t believe no one’s told you yet,” he laughed, shaking his head. “Bout a year ago we get a call from the servo out on Queen street - you know the one?”

Sebastian nodded.

“Anyway, some truckie calls up requesting an ambulance. Says he’s got lacerations on his dick, needs emergency assistance.”

Sebastian blushed. “ _How?_ ”

Kauri waved his hand as if to say _don’t interrupt me_ , and fished a few more chips out of his styrofoam container. He chewed with his mouth open, grinning wildly at his own story.

“Guy didn’t want to talk about it at first, y’know? Was too embarrassed.” He paused to swallow his mashed up mouthful.

“But eventually he tells us, says he was getting his cock sucked in the truck stop bathroom by some local kid.”

Sebastian’s stomach sunk.

“Some kid with different coloured eyes,” Kauri added, when Sebastian didn’t say a word.

The taller officer looked back towards the pub.

“You think it was Ciel?”

Kauri snorted.

“How many faggots do you know with different coloured eyes?” He scoffed. “Anyway, apparently the kid freaked out or something halfway through. Dude didn’t press charges because he was so embarrassed by the situation.”

Kauri kept shaking his head and laughing but Sebastian came to a stop on the pavement. He felt a lot of things. Protective of Ciel. Embarrassed, too.

Kauri looked back and saw his tense expression, then gave another full-bodied laugh.

"There's no words, right?" He snickered. "Kid has no respect for himself, y'know?"

Sebastian gave a vague nod but didn't say a word.

………………………………………………………………………………………….

 

 

Sebastian was eating when he got the call.

The phone rang as he pulled out the toothpick that held his burger together. It had a paper flamingo on top, a puffed out pink orb for a body, and it was obvious it was Ciel's handiwork.

Sebastian twirled it in his fingers as he picked up the line.

“Hey,” came a familiar voice, a colleague from his Sydney office. “I ran those names you sent me.”

Sebastian paused.

“Witness protection?” He guessed.

“No,” his old colleague replied.

Sebastian frowned. “Are you sure?”

“Yes I’m sure,” came a laugh.

“It doesn’t make sense,” Sebastian said to himself, more than the other man.

“I don’t know what to tell you mate,” came the reply. “For all intents and purposes the Delacroix family does not exist.”

Sebastian spun the paper flamingo between his fingers and felt his heart sink to the floor.

………………………………………………………………………………………….

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And the idiot horse strikes again...

 

 

Sebastian’s brother sighed.

It was not a noise of exhaustion - although Jake did paint the perfect picture of fatigue. The man had tired eyes and a jaw of salt-and-pepper stubble. His auburn hair, once long and wild, was now cropped short and tidy.

“I don’t have time to style it,” he’d argued.

Jake didn’t have time for a lot of things, now.

The man’s life revolved around his wife and their daughter. The sigh he gave was of satisfaction - his blood, sweat and tears surmounting to the life he’d built for his girls.

“Perfect, isn’t it?”

The brothers sipped from identical bottles, looking at the view from Jake’s window. Outside the city was a grey line, the harbour glimmering blue. The backyard was a square of green, the smell of barbecue wafting through the screen-door.

“It’s okay,” Sebastian shrugged, then smirked.

Jake elbowed him, smiling so wide he gathered lines around his tired eyes. Sebastian returned to the view. Jake’s wife was talking to their mother. Their father prodded at something on the cooker. Liam plucked cherry tomatoes from the salad bowl.

Jake was right. The view was perfect.

“You’ve got it all,” Sebastian admitted.

The job. The wife. The little girl. The million-dollar townhouse by the sea. But Jake, the perfect older brother, only shook his head.

“Says you,” he said. “How many lives did you save last week?”

Sebastian rolled his eyes. He took another sip of beer, trying to wash away the embarrassed pink that blossomed on his face.

“Nine,” he answered.

Jake grinned. He finished his beer and put the empty glass on the sill, clapping his hand around Sebastian’s arm. He squeezed, almost painful and called out to his daughter in the living room.

“Y’hear that Rubes? Your uncle Bastian’s a hero.”

Ruby looked up at the sound of her father’s voice. She was deep in play, surrounded by a collection of plush and plastic animals.

“M-hm,” she chirped, turning back to her game.

Sebastian’s heart melted like the condensation on his beer. His niece was perfect. He wandered to the couch and took in her brown-black eyes and inky hair. He couldn't find a single thing he didn't love about the little girl.

“Ruby,” he said, “Your daddy’s being silly.”

Ruby glanced up beneath her long eyelashes and offered up a secretive smile. It was their code, their special language. Ruby knew her daddy was silly. She knew everything - the sagest child Sebastian had ever known.

He sat on the couch and he offered up his hand. Ruby stared at him a minute and then extended hers, placing it in her uncle’s palm. Before her, Sebastian didn’t know how to act around children.

But everything came easy with Ruby. She had all the wisdom of an adult, a grace that made the cop feel clumsy in comparison.

“How old’s Ruby today?

“Five,” she announced.

Sebastian hummed. _Five_ , he thought. He could still remember when Ruby was small enough to cradle on one arm.

“That’s very grown-up,” he said to her.

Ruby nodded as if she had life all sorted out. Her dark lashes flicked up as Sebastian finished off his beer. The screen-door clicked open as Jake went outside and the man and his niece were alone.

“Do you want your present now?”

Ruby’s eyes lit up at the secretive whisper Sebastian used.

“Before cake?” She frowned.

“Before cake,” Sebastian confirmed.

The little girl looked toward the kitchen to check they were alone. Then she nodded, scrambling up onto her knees, eyes darkening with mischief.

Sebastian got up and exchanged his empty bottle for the present on the table. It was wrapped in blue-green paper, sprinkled with iridescent stars. When he handed it to Ruby she regarded it with wonder, gentle fingers crinkling the package.

The girl unwrapped the box, plucking free the sticky-tape and placing the ribbon on the floor. She removed the cardboard box from inside, taking off the lid.

Sebastian would not forget the soft, delighted sound Ruby made.

The small, pink shoe fit inside her dainty palm and she held it like it were made of glass. Sebastian almost felt embarrassed as his niece’s face blossomed in unadulterated happiness.

Her fingers traced the shoe, pressing on the petals of the daisy that decorated the buckle.

Ruby looked up at Sebastian and spoke to him -

No words came.

Only static.

Sebastian woke up screaming.

Ruby disappeared in a rainbow of pixels, torn apart with a screech and the nauseating _smack_ of a bullet. Pain rippled up Sebastian’s leg, his fingers clenching in the bedsheets as he shot up, heaving.

His sob echoed in the empty house, his scream still clinging to the walls. He ripped away the blankets and he stumbled out of his room, footsteps like his heartbeat as he ran to the kitchen.

When he threw up in the sink he felt his lungs pull apart like Velcro. His eyes watered, bones pulled up with each wrench, nose dripping. The bile in his mouth was hot like blood, his throat sticky.

When he was done the house smelt like fresh paint and vomit.

Pathetically, he scanned his fridge for a can of beer. There was nothing inside but a half-empty takeout container and a bottle of milk. He sighed, heading to the veranda and staring at the sky.

The sun was not yet up, horizon grey and timeless. The palm trees rustled as a breeze ran through them. Sebastian padded through the wet grass to the paddy-wagon he’d been gifted from the station.

It was the same car Ben had picked him up in. The seats were worn and split in some areas. There was dust on the dashboard, a faded sticker behind the sun-visor. _Drowning isn’t cool_ , it read.

He switched the radio on and let the static fill the cab. He played with the gear stick - a resin globe with a red-back spider encased inside. Sebastian curled his hand around it and let the coolness ground him, sinking into the leather seat with one leg stuck out the open door.

Then gently, curiously, he tuned the radio to a station he had memorised.

“Ciel?” He whispered to the static.

The receiver in his hand went slick with sweat. He swore under his breath, fingers twitching to switch off the radio and go back to bed.

“Who's this?” Came a soft voice in the dark.

Sebastian’s heart fell.

“It’s – um...”

“Just kidding,” Ciel huffed. “Morning, officer.”

Sebastian rest his head into the crook of his hand and exhaled.

“Did I wake you up?”

“No,” Ciel said.

A silence passed.

“Sebastian, what’s wrong?”

Sebastian curled his hand into a fist. He didn’t know what to say. He feared that if he started to talk he might never stop. He opened his mouth and closed it. He wet his lips and tried again.

“I had a nightmare,” he admitted.

A soft, sweet sound came from the receiver.

“I’m sorry,” Ciel hummed.

The admission made Sebastian pause. No one had ever apologised for his nightmares before. He dropped his heavy head into his hand and rubbed his sore eyes.

“What was it about?”

Once again the man opened his mouth but couldn’t speak. The faint trace of bile coated his teeth. He licked at them, a lump lodged into his throat.

"I – I can’t... I…”

He stopped, tears working their way down his cheeks. He stifled his sob into his shoulder.

“Sebastian?”

He couldn’t answer. He couldn’t even sit up straight. The weight of his situation kept him hunched over in the car. His niece. His brother. He cried just like a child, biting the fabric of his shirt to keep his misery silent.

“You ever tried lavender oil?” Ciel’s crackly words came over the speaker.

The question made the constable sit up.

“What?”

“Lavender oil,” the boy repeated. “It helps you sleep.”

“I… No.”

Sebastian wiped his face with the bottom of his shirt. He spread his toes between the dew-wet blades of grass under his foot.

“I’ve always wanted to try it,” Ciel said, “but it’s really fucking expensive.”

When Sebastian laughed he choked. He looked up through the windscreen and caught the first, tender rays of sunlight peeking up over the horizon. It was a treat, he told himself - the sunrise and Ciel’s voice.

“What are you doing?” He asked the other.

“Watching the sunrise.”

Sebastian smiled to himself. He wondered where Ciel was. He wondered if Bard was awake, and what the man would think if he knew the boy was talking to him so early in the morning. The thought conjured a sinking feeling in his stomach.

 _The Delacroix family does not exist_.

Instantly, the professional side of Sebastian took over.

“Did you grow up here?” He asked.

Ciel didn’t answer for a while. When he did his tone was distant, somewhat hesitant.

“No,” he said. “Somewhere else.”

“Where?” Sebastian pushed.

“We moved around a lot,” Ciel said, voice tense.

Sebastian’s stomach knotted. His residual nightmare was replaced with a dual sensation. The satisfaction of knowing he was right - that _yes_ , there was something wrong with the Delacroixs.

A sad feeling came, too.

“Did you always live in Sydney?” Ciel asked quickly, changing the subject.

“Yes,” Sebastian said. “My whole family lives there.

 _Or, what remains of my family_.

“What’s it like?”

Sebastian readjusted in his car seat, the sun a pleasant line of pink and tangerine.

“Incredible,” he said, mouth twitching up into a smile. “I wouldn’t have left if it wasn’t for… Well, you know.”

“I don’t know,” Ciel said.

Sebastian snorted. Who _didn’t_ know? His story was broadcast on every broadcasting station, every newspaper. It was talked about for weeks. Glamourised. Picked apart.

 _Two dead and six wounded after man holding children hostage opens fire_.

Ciel’s naivety made sense. Of course the boy was sweet to him. He had no idea of the things he’d done. He didn’t know Sebastian was a monster.

“What happened?” Came his gentle voice.

“I should go back to bed,” Sebastian exhaled.

Ciel sighed but didn’t lament on it. There was a silence for sometime, a rustle over the line as the boy shifted about. Sebastian wondered if he was in bed. Perhaps he was having a cigarette.

“Are you going to sleep?” Ciel asked.

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed as he stared out at the sun. He knew sleep would be impossible. But, despite the pit in his stomach, he couldn’t find it in himself to trample out Ciel’s hope.

“I’ll try,” he lied. “Night, Major Tom.”

Ciel laughed, soft and airy.

“Cute,” he smiled over the receiver. “Goodnight, Ground Control.”

The words ate away at the horrible feeling in Sebastian’s stomach and the man found himself feeling good again, his chest light and his heart happy. He squeezed his arm around his stomach and shut his eyes, exhausted.

The line fizzled then cut out.

……………………………………………………………………………

 

 

Bard had never been a morning person.

He didn’t like the screech of the cockatoos outside his window. He hated the mechanical whir of his ceiling fan. His body ached, perpetually tired - and he usually had a hangover.

Bard licked the taste of cheap beer off his teeth, glaring at his alarm clock. With all the enthusiasm of a corpse he rolled out of bed, rubbing at his three-day stubble.

He padded down the hall to the second bedroom and pressed on the door enough to poke his head in. Ciel was fast asleep in the centre of his mattress, curled on his stomach with the sheets between his legs.

A tension in Bard died. He rest his head against the doorframe and watched as the boy’s ribs rose and fell as gently as the breeze outside.

His back cracked as he plucked a few crumpled shirts off the boy’s bedroom floor. He threw them in the washing with his own. As the machine rumbled to life the man stretched, sunlight warming the linoleum tiles.

“Morning,” chirped a voice as he headed back into the kitchen.

The boy was sitting on the counter peeling a banana, wearing a smile that was the antithesis of Bard’s scowl. The blonde’s sight went from the kid’s little grin down to his waist - his shirt was cut off above his navel, revealing too much skin for the man’s liking.

“Where’s the rest of your shirt?”

The younger rolled his eyes and took a bite of his banana, gnashing his teeth because he knew the blonde hated the sound.

“Chill out _mum_ ,” he said with his mouth full.

“Don’t call me that,” Bard muttered, pushing past him to grab his smokes off the counter.

He stuck one between his lips but paused, counting out the rest in the packet. He flicked his gaze up to the kid and glared.

“You pinch some of these?”

“Ew,” the boy replied, wrinkling his nose. “Smoking’s gross.”

Bard stared him in the eye. The kid stared back, his mouth curved in an innocent smile. He had always been smart - so smart that he could lie to Bard’s face and the man would never know it. He hated it.

Bard deflated, his eyes sinking back down to that tiny, naked waist. He also hated how damned pretty the kid was.

It was a curse, the blonde told himself. Men hung around the boy like flies, and Ciel? He didn’t do anything to swat them away. The thought festered as the chef lit his cigarette, glaring at the bare knees, bare thighs and coy smile.

“Whatever,” he mumbled, taking in a draw.

There were only two nice things Bard did for himself and smoking was one of them. The tobacco was his self-care. It was his reprieve from the stress of parenting the world’s most testing twenty-two year old.

The smack of lips broke him from his meditation. He shot a look over his shoulder to see the kid smile, smearing the banana obscenely over the flat of his tongue.

“What… Why are you eating it that way?”

The kid laughed, arching one eyebrow. He smeared the banana on his lips, leaned back on his hand to show off his flat stomach. Bard felt his hair grey. He felt his body age a decade. He lashed out, grabbing the banana and breaking it in half.

“Can’t you eat normal?” He snapped.

“ _Mm_ , someone didn’t take his medicine.”

Bard locked his jaw.

“You know I hate those things.”

Mismatched eyes narrowed at him, fruit-wet mouth pressed to a terse line. Bard sighed, snatching at the canister his medication was in and shaking one into his mouth, swallowing it dry.

“ _Both_ of them.”

Bard sighed. “They’re expensive.”

“I don’t care,” the other argued, his voice serious. “They keep you alive.”

Bard ground his teeth and exhaled through his nose. Begrudgingly, he shook out a second pill.

The boy popped the remains of his banana between his teeth, the shadow of a wicked smile found on his lips. Bard sneered at him as he hopped off the counter. He rose up on his toes and kissed his stubbled cheek as he did every morning.

“Brat,” the blonde mumbled as the boy pushed past.

The chef popped the second pill onto his tongue. He ignored the way the kid’s shorts rode up his thighs and the way he tugged the fabric down to hide his plump ass cheek.

Bard took a sip of water, grimacing.

The pill was hard to swallow.

……………………………………………………………………………

 

 

There was nothing to do in Nowhere.

Sebastian took the night shift again and lied to himself about the reason why. He argued the pay-cheque was worth it and that he enjoyed the time alone.

But if Sebastian had two things in abundance it was loneliness and money. The real reason he took the night shift was the very thing he’d returned to the service station for.

The police officer drummed his fingers on the counter as the clerk rung up his pathetic order of cashew nuts and iced coffee. The night had been quiet so far, the midnight hour gone and dusted.

“I’ve heard those are bad for you,” came a voice from behind him.

Ciel Delacroix leaned against the counter, his eyes illuminated by the fluorescent bulbs. His lips were wet as if he’d glossed them, dimples sinking into his cheeks the longer the two men stared at one another.

 _Speaking of things that are bad for me_ , Sebastian thought to himself.

“Really?” He asked.

Ciel nodded, tucking back his hair. A cigarette was pinned behind his ear and Sebastian reached for it, waving the stick before his nose.

“I’ve heard these are bad for you,” he echoed, delighting when the young man screwed up his nose and snatched the smoke away from him.

Sebastian couldn’t bite back his smile, an easy thing that worked its way onto his mouth and blossomed before he could catch it. A bead of guilt worked its way under his rib at the notion of feeling so happy. He coughed, pressing his lips into a line.

“Couldn’t sleep?” He asked Ciel, following him out into the carpark.

The boy lit his cigarette and leaned against the wall before answering, letting his body slump as if the smoke were nirvana. The air tasted like salt and tobacco and Sebastian found himself relaxing too.

“No,” Ciel said, staring at his smoke. “Something happened when I was young and I still think about it sometimes.”

His gentle smile did not match the tone of his voice.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Ciel’s smile widened. “The most traumatic memory of my life? No, Sebastian. I don’t.”

He laughed, soft and easy. Sebastian felt himself blush and he rubbed the nape of his neck to dispel the colour on his face. He glanced up and watched Ciel ash his cigarette, light shifting across the marred skin of his knuckles.

“Is it how you got your scar?”

Ciel’s sight went to his hand and he giggled.

“No,” he said, wiggling his fingers. “I got this skateboarding.”

Sebastian laughed in surprise. The sound startled the boy, his eyes wide and amused at the sound the constable made.

“Sorry,” Sebastian shook his head, sweat collecting around his blue collar. “I didn’t know you could skate.”

Ciel pressed his tongue into his cheek as if he were trying to suppress his dimples. Sebastian wondered how it was possible Ciel was born with both dimples _and_ cheekbones.

“There’s nothing else to do here,” the boy answered.

Sebastian hummed. He could relate. Nowhere was a fisherman’s paradise but Sebastian didn’t fish. The air was fragrant though, and the sun was kind to his sore body. The company, he reconciled, was not bad either.

“Your scars are cool,” Ciel said after a while.

Sebastian choked on a mouthful of iced coffee. He looked down to see the boy admiring the faint, criss-crossed lines that littered his arms. The chatter of insects faded away, replacing by the crunch of steel - the sound of broken glass along the highway.

“Cool?” He echoed.

Ciel nodded. He reached out and kissed his fingers against the scars. Sebastian rubbed his neck, his face hot. Of course Ciel would think these scars were _cool_ \- he hadn’t seen the others.

The pads of Ciel’s fingers traced the thick of Sebastian’s forearm, trailing to his wrist and against his hand. Distantly, the man realised the boy was flirting with him. The way he touched, dedicating a gentle stroke to each and every line, was an excuse to touch him.

As Ciel’s fingers paid reverent worship to each scar Sebastian felt himself tugged back to that dangerous path. The one he knew would be easy to walk. Ciel was willing. Sebastian could have him in a heartbeat.

Sebastian swallowed, his tongue thick, and knew he shouldn’t reciprocate. Ciel was too gorgeous and intelligent for a tired, old divorcée such as himself.

Kauri Tamihana’s words came back to haunt him.

 _That boy has no respect for himself_.

Sebastian turned his arm and let Ciel place his fingers over his pulse. He was gentle, treating the man just like the glass that’d cut him. Sebastian’s coffee dripped condensation on his navy trousers, forgotten in favour of something sweeter.

Sebastian, wedded to self-loathing, reminded himself of what he’d heard from the other constable. His heart hurt imagining how many men Ciel had so easily offered himself to.

He gulped, feeling ashamed. A little stupid. _Of course_ , he thought. He probably touched everyone this way.

After all, there was nothing special about Sebastian.

……………………………………………………………………………

 

 

The apartment was so quiet Ciel could hear the bug-killer.

The blue light buzzed, a feather-soft insect hitting the wood of the veranda. Ciel padded to the screen-door and pressed on it, his stomach dropping when he saw Bard sitting in the dark.

The man’s face was only illuminated by the bug-killer but Ciel could see the tell-tale way he locked his jaw.

“Where were you?”

Ciel said nothing. He pressed against the doorframe as if he could pretend he wasn’t there. His stare fell to the beer can balanced on Bard’s knee.

“Were you with that cop?” Bard asked.

Ciel closed his eyes and nodded. He didn’t need to see if Bard had caught his answer because he heard the man sigh. The noise physically pained him.

“What are you trying to do?” The blonde groaned, chair creaking as he stood.

Ciel listened to his beer can crumple, felt the floorboards creak until the blonde was so close to him the blue light cut to darkness. He opened his eyes, lowering them like a scolded child.

“Do you want him to find out who we are?” Bard pushed, his voice shaking.

Ciel shifted his weight, wishing the wall behind him would swallow him up.

“Answer me,” Bard hissed.

“No,” Ciel blurted. “Of course I don’t.”

Bard laughed, an unstable and uncertain sound, his hands curling around nothing. The laugh made Ciel feel sick, resentment coiled in his gut.

“I’m not a little boy anymore,” he bit. “I’m twenty-two. I want… I want to meet someone.”

Something in Bard’s face changed. He softened, just for a second. Then it was gone.

“Meet someone else.”

“Who!”

Ciel shoved the blonde’s arm and earned a grunt from the man. His guardian didn’t sway, numb to the boy’s bouts of petulance.

“We live in the middle of fucking nowhere,” Ciel cried. “There’s no one to meet!”

“You can’t trust him.”

“I _don’t_ ,” Ciel swore, shoving at the man again. “I just want-”

“To fuck him?”

Blood rushed to Ciel’s face. His heart gave a huge, painful thud and he let go of Bard, slumping against the wall.

“Bard,” he pleaded. “I can’t live like this.”

Bard lowered his head and exhaled, still squeezing his hands into fists and then releasing. His body was tense, the collar of his singlet damp with sweat.

“You know the rules,” he said, his voice gentler than before. “No cops.”

He put his hand out as if to touch the boy, his fingers shaking. Then he withdrew, curling them back into a fist. Ciel bit his lip, trapping the melancholy pit inside his throat.

“Our lives are at stake,” Bard reminded him.

Then he shouldered past the boy and went inside. Ciel sunk against the wall, sliding down to bring his knees up to his chest. He buried his face in his elbow and cried to the static of the bug-killer.

……………………………………………………………………………

 

 

Sebastian thought of Ciel all night.

At first he thought of all the nice things. His bottle-green jeans and his smile. His soft hands, his laugh.

Then, like all things in Sebastian’s life, he ruined them.

He marred the thoughts with the remembrance of how Ciel’s voice had tensed when he’d asked where he’d grown up. He smothered the fragile longing in his belly with a voice that said Ciel didn’t like him.

And by the time the sun came up another sleepless night had sunk into his skeleton. Sebastian, so deep in self-hatred, could no longer draw the line between what was true or not.

He jogged along the beach to clear his mind. His shirt soaked through with sweat. The lady with the border-collie smiled at him but the police officer was too deep in thought to notice her.

He headed for the coffee cart.

Coincidentally, Kauri was there. The man nodded at Sebastian, sipping his own coffee as he tried miserably to make conversation with Lisbeth. The young woman had slumped into her camp chair, staring pointedly at the building across the road.

“I have customers to serve, Tamihana.”

Ciel’s voice was terse and yet Sebastian couldn’t shake the hopeful jump his heart gave. He swallowed, suffocating the sweet things stirring inside of him. He approached the counter as Kauri left.

“See ya, Delacroix.”

Even with his glasses on Sebastian could see the way Ciel rolled his eyes. He shot Lisbeth a look and she returned with one of her own, making a pistol with her fingers before she mimed shooting her head off.

“Delacroix,” Sebastian announced, ignoring how his chest hurt. “That’s French, right?”

Ciel amused smile fell from his face and one eyebrow raised behind the plastic of his glasses.

“I guess,” he said, tucking his hair behind his ear.

“And that’s Bard’s last name too?”

The tendon in Ciel’s neck flinched. He gave a thin-lipped smile, his hands curling around the coffee-damp cloth on the counter.

“Yep,” he pushed between his teeth. “You want a coffee or what?”

His annoyance was Sebastian’s first clue. He was no detective but he wasn’t stupid. The boy was lying to him.

“Sorry,” Sebastian blurted. “You just don’t, um. You don’t look… French.”

As soon as the words left he mouth he flinched at how stupid and offensive they sounded. Even Lisbeth looked up. Ciel lowered his sunglasses enough to show the cop his narrowed eyes.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

The angry words sounded wrong coming from Ciel’s gentle mouth. Sebastian realised he was on a precipice - a choice between his job and his heart.

“That hasn’t always been your last name, has it?”

As always, he put his job first.

He watched the colour drain from Ciel’s face and, privately, the professional side of Sebastian celebrated. The young man’s throat bobbed, expression all too familiar to the cop.

 _Guilt_.

“Lis,” he said, an edge to his voice. “Can you take over for a sec?”

“Sure,” said the blonde, head darting between both men.

Ciel turned and headed for the alleyway beside the pub. Sebastian followed, watching shadows from the gum tree overhead dance against the boy’s shoulders. He took off his sunglasses and turned to the cop, eyes wet.

“Why are you looking into my past?” He said.

“I wasn’t-”

“Do yourself a favour, Sebastian - and stop. Don’t do that whole cop thing to me.”

Sebastian opened his mouth but Ciel shoved him, the dull pain to his chest enough to make him gasp. His hand shook as he withdrew it, one finger pointed in a warning.

“Stop it,” he bit, “I’m warning you.”

Ciel was cruel. Defensive. Sebastian catalogued his expression - damp eyelashes, a trembling mouth. His body tense, as if ready for a fight.

“I thought we had something,” the boy added, quieter.

Sebastian felt sick.

“I want to know what’s real and what’s not,” he told Ciel.

It was the truth. His heart was too small and too black to be toyed with.

“Like what?” Ciel grit.

 _Like the way you feel about me_ , Sebastian thought to himself.

He glanced in the direction Kauri had left.

“Like the service station,” he found himself saying instead.

Ciel’s face fell. “Did Kauri tell you that?”

Sebastian answered by lowering his gaze to the ground. He heard Ciel laugh, a cold sound, and felt another palm shove at his chest.

“I can’t believe you’d listen to Kauri Tamihana,” Ciel said, his voice beginning to shake.

“So it’s not true?”

Sebastian couldn’t stop himself. The damage was done. All that was left was to do his job.

“That I sucked off some guy at a service station?” Ciel practically shouted, voice echoing up the alley.

Sebastian was faintly aware of the sound of a door opening, the wood creaking on the veranda upstairs. His heart crawled into his throat, lashes lifting to see Bard open his apartment door. The blonde was eerily calm, arms folding over the veranda railing.

“Yeah it’s true,” Ciel continued, pushing Sebastian again. “But I didn’t do anything illegal, so it’s none of your business!”

“Ciel,” the constable breathed.

The boy ignored him, fumbling with his apron as he tore it from his waist. He turned and headed up the stairs, Sebastian powerless to stop him. He shivered, sweat drying on his skin, the collar of his shirt still damp.

“Out of everyone I thought you’d understand what rumours do,” he heard Ciel mutter. “Do me a favour and don’t speak to me anymore.”

He pushed past Bard, the blonde still eyeing off the police officer. His anger-less expression was somehow more terrifying than one of rage. Sebastian stared back, letting his own foolishness sting him.

As a police officer he felt good, as if he’d discovered something. As if he’d won.

As a human, he felt like shit.

……………………………………………………………………………

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It would mean a lot to me if you could leave a comment on this chapter. I worked super duper hard on it and it would make my morning if you let me know which part you liked best n____n
> 
> Pls press kudos for more quick updates! x


	5. Chapter 5

 

 

**September, 1994**

 

 

“I’m leaving you.”

Sebastian was not shocked to hear the words leave his husband’s mouth. If there was anything surprising about what he said it was only that Liam hadn’t said them sooner.

In retrospect, Sebastian was lucky his husband had stayed with him as long as he did. He’d stayed for the funerals. For both funerals.

“Sebastian,” his husband sighed. “Are you listening to me?”

Sebastian didn’t lift his eyes from the beer can in his hand. Maybe, if he avoided looking at the man, he could pretend like none of this was happening. He clenched the can, eyes falling to his wedding band. He clenched harder - as if he could prolong this moment.

The final moment in which he could call Liam his husband.

“I should have left you months ago,” Liam said, as if he hadn’t driven the knife deep enough the first time.

“But I didn’t want to leave after what happened. It wasn’t fair that Ruby died. And what happened afterwards…”

He trailed off. Liam had the decency to sound upset. Sebastian exhaled, watching condensation fall from his drink. He knew sorrow hadn’t been his husband predominate emotion the past nine months. Frustration, perhaps. Disenchantment.

“I can’t stay with you anymore.”

“Why?” Sebastian asked.

His voice startled him. It was rough. Like the stubble on his face. Like the stains on his shirt. Something wet hit his hand and he touched his face, realising he was crying.

“You’re an alcoholic,” Liam said.

Sebastian screwed up his face. That wasn’t a reason to give up on someone. Their vows had been _in sickness and in health_.

“You don’t go to work,” Liam continued, “or to therapy. You don’t speak to your family. You don’t shower - and I know you’ve been using again.”

A long silence followed.

Sebastian swallowed around the golf ball in his throat. His husband had a point. He was right about the nights he’d spent hiding from his problems in a bar. About the credit card he’d drained on liquor - twice. And the cocaine he’d bought in King’s Cross, a precinct he’d once patrolled.

“If you leave me I won’t have anything,” Sebastian said.

Hot tears rolled down his cheeks. He looked up in time to see Liam’s face crumple.

“That’s not my fault,” he said as softly and as kindly as he could.

But a kind, soft knife was still a knife. Sebastian felt it pierce between his ribs. He finished the last of his beer to soothe the cut, the bitter liquor tainted with his own tears.

He could feel Liam slipping away from him. Emotionally. Physically, as he stepped toward the door. Sebastian tongued his cheek, withdrawing the one card he vowed he’d never use.

“If you leave me,” he said to Liam, “I’ll kill myself.”

The resulting silence was worse than Sebastian could have imagined. When he dared to look up he saw his husband was crying. Quietly. Elegantly. Everything Sebastian was not. Liam opened his mouth to speak, eyes darting around their living room as if searching for something to hold onto.

Eventually his eyes fell to the drunk sitting on the couch.

“How could you say that?” He asked, voice thick with pain.

The sound of his husband, disarmed and wounded, drove the knife up to the hilt in Sebastian’s chest. He kept his head down when the man left and listened to him place his wedding band on the counter before the door shut.

 _Clink_.

Sebastian pressed his beer to his lips, forgetting it was empty. He stood and stumbled. His shin hit the coffee table, a pang travelling up his bad leg. He hardly felt it. He shuffled to the fridge, avoiding the gold ring in his peripheral.

He finished the new can in three swallows. Beer dribbled down his chin and stained his shirt. He used the same fabric to wipe his face, sticky tears and cheap alcohol clinging to his unshaved cheek.

Then he pulled a crumpled, plastic bag from his pocket and dumped the contents on the counter. There wasn’t a lot left, just a small pile of powder than Sebastian pushed into a line. He ducked down and snorted it, the sound reverberating throughout his empty apartment.

Sebastian grabbed his car keys from a bowl on the counter. Attached to them was a plastic turtle Liam had bought him on their honeymoon. Sebastian stared at its lime green, smiling face and the worse pain he’d ever felt tore him from the inside out.

He yanked the turtle off the keys before he could start crying again. His heart felt like it was turning itself inside out. The turtle clattered on the counter top, Sebastian’s heartache louder than his footsteps as he headed out the door.

He stumbled down the apartment stairwell and into the parking garage. Liam’s car was gone but Sebastian’s glossy police cruiser gave a pleasant _chirp_ when he unlocked the door.

The tyres squealed as he reversed out, ignoring the _beep beep beep_ that told him his seatbelt was not fastened. As he pulled onto the street raindrops began to hit the windscreen, blurring the fairy-lights of skyscrapers above him.

It was the last thing Sebastian could remember before the crash.

………………………………………………………………………………………….

 

 

Ciel was not at the service station.

Sebastian wasn’t surprised. But his heart still sunk the same when he pulled into the parking lot and saw he was the only customer. He picked up his usual iced coffee and lingered in the snack isle, staring at the door.

He wanted Ciel to show up and act like nothing had happened. He wanted the boy to tell him everything was going to be okay.

Sebastian sat for an hour in his car.

The analog clock on his dash read 2am. The officer rolled down his window and let the cool breeze touch his brow. Almost a month in Nowhere and he couldn’t adjust to her balmy, winter heat. Even his coffee was beginning to sweat.

Waves crashed in the distance. Crickets chirped. The hum of the service station’s industrial fridges filled the parking lot. Sebastian took a half-hearted sip of warm milk and tuned his radio to a familiar station.

“Ciel?” He asked into the dark.

No answer came.

“Ciel?” He tried again. “Pick up. Please.”

The echo of his voice was embarrassing to listen to. Sebastian leaned back in his seat and let the leather crack beneath him. He thought of the last time he’d spoken to Liam without a doctor or a lawyer in the room with them.

 _If you leave me I will kill myself_.

Suddenly, the static of the radio stopped.

“Are you alone?”

Ciel’s beautiful, mournful voice made Sebastian jump. He leapt forward and pressed down the push-to-talk so hard his thumb hurt.

“Yes,” he replied.

Ciel hesitated to respond. Sebastian took a deep breath, schooling his Pavlovian response to the twenty-two-year-old. He let his stomach unknot itself and once again leaned back into his seat.

“When I was little,” Ciel eventually said, “Something bad happened.”

He chose his words carefully, hesitantly.

“There was an accident.”

Ciel's transmission turned to static and the noise raised the hair on Sebastian’s arms. He swallowed, a rock in his throat. When the static cut out again he caught the tail-end of a sob.

“Someone got hurt,” Ciel cried, his voice raw. “We had to change our last name.”

Sebastian sat forward in his seat.

“What do you mean someone got hurt?”

When Ciel spoke next his voice broke, cracking in half like a wave against sharp rocks.

“Someone died.”

Sebastian’s heart fell to his stomach. He felt a tug within him. A pull to pursue more information. To ask questions. Investigate. To do his job.

But the sound of Ciel crying amongst the chirping crickets and the humming fridges was so sorrowful that Sebastian felt a deeper tug.

“I can help you,” he said to Ciel.

He wanted to reach his hand into the static and touch Ciel. He wanted to brush away his tears and tuck back his silver hair.

“You can’t help us,” Ciel sniffled.

 _Us_ , Sebastian thought. _What did Bard do?_

“If you’re in trouble-”

“Sebastian, don’t.”

Ciel’s breath came high-pitched and breathy. Like he was desperate, begging. Sebastian forced his lips together, jaw aching with how hard he clenched.

“I don’t want to have to change my name again,” the boy said.

And although he said it softly, innocently, Sebastian heard it like a threat. He thought of a town without Ciel Delacroix. He thought of the only interesting thing that had happened to him in the past six months disappearing without a trace.

The thought was so upsetting that he stifled all the sirens that blared inside his head.

“I won’t say anything,” Sebastian promised.

Ciel’s line dropped and the static returned.

………………………………………………………………………………………….

 

 

He didn’t see Ciel for a week.

The day after they spoke, the coffee cart was closed. The Criterion shut too, a scribbled note on the door explaining they were temporarily closed. It stayed that way for two days and Sebastian held his breath - wondering if Ciel and Bard had simply skipped town.

On the third morning Sebastian was on his usual jog when he smelt ground coffee on the breeze. He changed his path and wandered up the main street, plucking his sweat-damp shirt away from his body. When he spotted Ciel’s familiar figure from across the street he was so relieved he almost stepped in front of a passing car.

But when the boy noticed him he fixed the officer with a look so cold the man stopped dead in his tracks and headed in the opposite direction.

The pub was open later the same day. Sebastian saw it himself when he was on patrol with Kauri, the pair walking down the footpath when the older officer noticed the Criterion’s doors were open. Soft music echoed down the stairs and made him pause. He was so busy peering at the bar that he didn’t see Bard leaning out the window.

“Keep moving, pig.”

The blonde smashed his cigarette into a dish on the sill, his expression so poisonous that the bottom of Sebastian’s stomach dropped out. He tripped over his own boot, shoving Kauri down the footpath until he could no longer feel narrowed, blue eyes on the nape of his neck.

“Oh boy,” Kauri whistled lowly. “What’d you do to get on his bad side?”

Sebastian shot a look back at the Criterion, mortified.

“I don’t know,” he lied.

Kauri shrugged.

“I don’t envy you, buddy. That Delacroix’s a real piece of work.”

………………………………………………………………………………………….

 

 

Everything closed on Sundays.

Nowhere was a ghost town from noon onwards. Like the heat, Sebastian was still not used to the phenomenon. He watched as the shop fronts closed one by one, only a handful remaining open until dusk.

The Criterion was one - her soft, radio melody echoing down the main street and toward the sea. The fish-n-chip shop on the corner was another. Sebastian’s shift began at six and by then Sydney would have been dark. Nowhere, however, was stuck in a state of perpetual summer.

The same song from the Criterion played in Sebastian’s paddy-wagon as he took a left onto the road lining the ocean. The street lights popped on as he drove by, window down to taste the salty breeze.

Noodletopia was open.

The shops that flanked her were dim and lifeless but the noodle shop buzzed with fluorescent life. Through the wide window Sebastian could see the cherry-red counter top and the chart of dishes behind it. He saw Ciel too, sitting in a wicker chair.

Sebastian pulled his vehicle over, heart crawling up into his mouth.

The girl behind the counter looked startled to see him push through the plastic flaps that framed the door. It took a moment for the officer to realise it was Lis - her skin pale under the artificial light and her unruly hair tucked beneath a cap.

Ciel looked surprised too, sitting forward in his chair. He was wearing shorts again, his long legs out for show.

“I’ve been looking for you,” Sebastian blurted before his brain could decide it was a bad idea.

Ciel’s eyes widened.

“You have?”

Sebastian nodded. He felt a little stupid, barging into the quiet noodle house in full uniform, his collar damp with sweat.

“Can we, um,” Sebastian paused, shooting Lis a glance.

She had fixed him with a narrow-eyed stare, too venomous for a girl as pretty as she was. Ciel’s own expression was gentler, head cocked as he waited for Sebastian to talk.

“Can we go for a drive?” Sebastian finished.

“Ciel’s busy,” Lis announced.

“I’m not,” Ciel said just as quickly, standing up.

He didn’t say another word until he was in the passenger seat of the vehicle, clicking his seatbelt in place with a thoughtful little him.

“I’ve never been in a cop car before,” Ciel explained.

Sebastian exhaled. That was a relief.

He took Ciel to the lookout the boy had introduced to him his first week in town. The view was not the same, the last rays of sunlight drowning behind dark waves. The horizon was lilac and Sebastian could see the lights of a cargo ship in the distance.

“Is this when you kill me and hide my body?” Ciel asked.

Sebastian switched off the engine and it was only the sound of waves and their breathing. The boy laughed nervously, thumbing at his knee.

“I watch Law & Order,” he added, frowning.

Sebastian couldn’t look at the boy next to him. He felt stupid, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.

“No,” he said. “I got you this.”

With his free hand he reached over and thumped the glovebox. From inside he took a brown, paper bag and waited until Ciel grabbed it from his fingers. He listened to the paper rustle as he opened the gift.

“It’s lavender oil,” Sebastian explained after a drawn out silence.

“This is the good kind,” Ciel breathed in reply. “The expensive one.”

Sebastian nodded, then dared himself to look over at the boy. His eyes were fixated on the little bottle in his hand, mouth slack.

“It’s an apology,” Sebastian said. “I thought… I thought it could help you sleep.”

He shook his head as if the idea was as stupid as it sounded. “Sorry, I-”

He paused when Ciel untwisted the bottle and dabbed the oil on the inside of his wrist. He breathed it in, eyelashes fluttering as he made a soft and thoughtful noise.

“ _Mm_ ,” he sighed, shoulders falling. “Here.”

He extended his wrist and the man leaned in until his seatbelt bruised his chest. He bowed his head and inhaled, unable to hold back his own sigh. He must have closed his eyes because they snapped open when fingers tucked his hair behind his ear.

“No one’s ever bought me anything before.”

Sebastian glanced up and realised he was dangerously close to Ciel. The boy was looking at him with a coy smile on his mouth, his dimples threatening to show.

“No one?” Sebastian asked, jaw shifting against the inside of Ciel’s hand.

Ciel shook his head. His dimples disappeared and he broke eye contact, staring down at his knees.

“Sebastian,” he exhaled. “About the service station.”

A stone dropped in the police officer’s stomach.

“No,” he said. “You were right. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I want to tell you,” Ciel pushed. “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about me.”

Sebastian looked up and caught the way Ciel wet his mouth. In the darkness of the paddy-wagon his pupils were wide and black.

“I don’t want you to think that I’m a slut,” Ciel added, voice quieter.

Sebastian flushed, sitting back in his seat.

“It was only one time,” Ciel started. “My first time.”

Another stone dropped inside Sebastian. Instantly he wanted Ciel to stop. He felt a guilty pit open up inside of him, each word making the hole widen.

“I, um. I’d met him before, at the servo. He was kinda handsome,” Ciel paused to swallow. “I just… I was lonely, and everyone my age had already…” He trailed off.

Sebastian nodded.

“But I wasn’t ready and I… I freaked out.”

Sebastian’s face tightened and Ciel glanced up in alarm. The boy shook his head and waved his hands between them.

“Not like that!” He rushed. “I just… I didn’t know what I was doing. And I bit him. I d-didn’t mean to, Sebastian.”

Ciel sank into the leather seat and sighed. His breath hitched, arms curling around his waist to give himself a hug.

“And now the whole town knows about it. It’s even written in the bathroom at the Criterion - _Ciel Delacroix sucks cock_. I paint over it but there’s a new one every week.”

He rolled his eyes and even in the darkness Sebastian could make out the embarrassed hue of his cheeks.

“I had to tell Bard before he found out from someone else and killed the poor guy.”

Ciel laughed. He wiped at his face with the heel of his palm, shaking his head.

“It was so fucking embarrassing,” he added.

Sebastian pulled a handkerchief from the pocket on his shirt and offered it to Ciel. The boy dabbed at his cheek and wiped his hair back from his face. He exhaled, as if shifting a heavy weight off his shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” Sebastian finally said. “It was none of my business.”

“You were just doing your job,” Ciel said.

The boy smiled, his lashes dark with tears. He crumped Sebastian’s hanky in his hand but didn’t give it back.

“Bard’s really mad at me, huh?”

That earned a smile from Ciel. He laughed too, the sound rewarding. Sebastian tensed his jaw so he wouldn’t smile too wide and embarrass himself. The boy rolled his eyes, throwing his head back against the seat with a loud sigh.

“He’s just so…” He trailed off, squeezing his fist around the handkerchief.

“He’s _so_ protective! And I love him, more than _anything_ ,” Ciel stressed. “But I made one mistake as a child and he hasn’t let me forget it.”

“That’s why you changed your last name?”

Ciel nodded, staring at the sea.

“I know what that’s like,” Sebastian said. “I wish I could change my name and start again.”

Ciel snorted but the sound was sympathetic.

“I wouldn’t recommend it,” he said.

“Why?”

Ciel’s shoulders hitched and fell, eyes lost to something on the horizon.

“It’s lonely,” he said.

He didn’t say anything afterwards and Sebastian didn’t dare disturb the silence. He watched the cargo ship drift along the horizon and he listened to Ciel breathe.

When the boy wriggled closer to the centre console and laid his head upon the officer’s shoulder, Sebastian did nothing to stop him.

………………………………………………………………………………………….

 

 

The following day was warm.

The air was sticky like rain was coming, and Ciel woke already damp with sweat. He gave an unimpressed grunt, kicking off his bedsheets so his legs could cool in the pale, yellow sun. He'd never liked mornings.

The cockatoos were already noisy, the windows of the apartment open to let the day roll in. Bard was hunched over the kitchen table wearing only his sweatpants, takeaway coffee in his hand.

His hair was ruffled as usual but when he glanced up at Ciel the boy noticed how tired he looked. His jaw was locked too, an expression set into his features than he'd only seen a handful of times before.

“You don’t look so good,” Ciel said.

He shuffled over to the sink and poured a glass of water. He sipped at it, taking Bard’s pill bottle and turning it over.

“Have you been taking these?”

Bard didn’t respond. When Ciel turned around the man was glaring at him. He paused like a roo in headlights, no longer half-asleep.

“Do you know what he did?”

Ciel frowned.

“Bard,” he said, then held up the pills. “Have you be-”

“Did you know he killed a kid?”

Bard lifted up the paper he’d been reading. Ciel narrowed his eyes. It was a photocopy of a newspaper.

“What?”

“He killed a little girl,” Bard continued, standing up. “That’s why he’s here. He’s an alcoholic and a child killer.”

“Bard, who…”

Ciel’s heart began to fall. He put his water on the bench and headed for the table, staring at the print-outs fanned across the surface.

“And then he crashed his car into a building while he was high on cocaine. Did you know about that, Ciel?”

Ciel picked up a paper from the pile. The photocopy was grainy but he could make out Sebastian's face, eyes downcast as he tried to cover his face from the camera.

“Why are you looking at this?” Ciel asked, voice hollow.

He looked at the next photocopy, an image of a police officer laying on the ground. There was a dramatic, black puddle under his leg. Ciel swallowed, thinking of Sebastian's limp.

 _Two dead and six wounded after man holding children hostage opens fire -_ the headline read.

“Did some research,” Bard explained. “Found a VHS at the library and made a copy to show you."

He taped the black tape on the table and took a swig of coffee. His eyes were almost grey, all the muscles in his neck and shoulders so tense it was visible.

"Sent a copy to the police station too," the blonde said. "In case they didn't know."

Ciel's heart tore in half.

“Bard!” He sobbed.

“He’s a cop,” the blonde grit. “And we don’t trust-”

“You’re a cop!” Ciel yelled. “You’re a cop, Bard."

Ciel dropped the photocopy and smacked Bard's chest, pain radiating through him from his core. His stomach twisted into a painful knot. His face grew hot like he was going to cry. The blonde grunted, pushing away his fist.

“Not anymore,” he grit. “I gave it up - to protect you.”

“I don’t need you to protect me,” Ciel cried. “I’m not a child. I’m not _your_ child.”

Bard’s jaw clenched. He rubbed at his stubble and shouldered past Ciel.

“It wouldn’t be the first time you put your life - _our_ lives - in danger over some stupid mistake.”

“Sebastian isn’t stupid,” Ciel muttered. “He’s not like that.”

Bard laughed joylessly. “You didn’t even know what he had done.”

Ciel looked down at the tape on the table and then back to Bard. An angry tear broke loose and rolled down his cheek. He didn't bother to wipe at it, wanting his guardian to know exactly how upset he was with him.

"Watch the tape if you don't believe me," Bard said.

He purposefully avoided looking at Ciel. He rubbed at his chest, the place where the boy had hit him, but Ciel didn't have the energy to feel bad about it. He snatched up the VHS and took it to the living room, inserting it into the machine.

………………………………………………………………………………………….

 

 

Bard watched from the kitchen.

Admittedly, he hadn't seen the footage. He'd read enough from the headlines to know Sebastian Michaelis was bad news. It was satisfying to know he had been right about his hunch. He might have felt good about it too, if Ciel wasn't crying on the couch with his knees drawn to his chest.

The news presenter warbled over helicopter footage of the crime scene, the shot similar to the photo in the newspaper. It cut to an ambulance, to police halting traffic. Close ups of distressed pedestrians. A photo of the little girl who'd been killed in the shooting.

And because he hadn't focused on the details in the articles, it shocked Bard to learn that the little girl was Sebastian's niece.

A horrified, punched out sob came from the couch when Ciel learned it too.

"That's his niece!" Ciel cried, wiping around to glare at Bard. "How could you send that?"

When the footage ended the screen cut out to a black-and-white mess of pixels. Ciel stood up and stormed past Bard, his face covered with his arm. The blonde reached out for him but Ciel jerked back, baring his teeth.

"No!" He sobbed. "Let go of me."

Bard tightened his grip around Ciel's arm. He was so small. He knew that he could pin him down if he needed too. His muscles tensed, ready to sweep the boy into his arms if he tried to flee the apartment.

"I hate you!" Ciel cried as he drew him closer to his chest. "I hate you! I hate you!"

The words came like punches to Bard's stomach. 

"You just want me to stay here forever," Ciel cried, "and end up as miserable and alone as you!"

Ciel wriggled until Bard dropped him, the sound of his knees hitting the floor just as painful as his words. Bard swallowed, watching him stumble to his bedroom. He slammed the door, picture frames vibrating down the hall. His crying echoed, too miserable to be contained within the room.

Bard sat down at the table and forced himself to finish his coffee. He stared down at his hand, jaw clenched so hard his teeth hurt.

He'd quit his job. He never married. He hadn't laid his hands on a woman in two decades - hadn't dared to even fantasise about it. He gave up all hopes of a happy, normal life so the boy would be safe - but he never wanted the same, lonely life for Ciel.

Bard rubbed at his chest, a funny pang rippling up his arm. He grunted, kneading the sensation out of his skin.

Being a dad wasn't supposed to be easy.

………………………………………………………………………………………….

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please follow me (and ask me stuff) on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/bun_o_ween) and/or [Tumblr](https://bun-o-ween.tumblr.com)
> 
> I'd really love to hear what your favourite part of this chapter was, and if you enjoyed it please leave a kudos n____n


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year! There's a lot of crying in this one, just the way I like it >:)

 

 

 

The pub didn’t open until eleven.

Bard wasted his morning in the armchair by the window, staring as the ceiling fan rocked new cracks into the plaster. The tepiddawn had become a muggy day and the blonde was gathering sweat as he sat in silence, his only movement the lift of his beer can to his lips.

_I hate you_.

Bard couldn’t shake the funny, squeezing feeling in his chest. He rubbed his pectoral through his t-shirt and groaned. _How did it get to this?_ He thought, staring at Ciel’s closed bedroom door.

They hadn’t had a fight like this in years. The last had been when the boy was thirteen. He'd snuck out in the night to go skateboarding, of all things. Bard would never forget the way his stomach dropped the moment he realised the boy was missing from his room.

_I hate you_.

Bard finished the warm dregs of his beer and crushed the can in his fist. He dropped it on the floor, ignoring the way it dribbled on the rug. It was too humid to bother with. He turned his head and watched storm clouds blacken over the ocean.

Bard didn’t want Ciel to suffer.

Of course he didn't. His goal had always been to protect him. His sister Rose, she was different. It hadbeen her job to love Ciel, to coddle him. To kiss his knee when he fell and to tuck him in at night.

Bard's job was to make sure his little family was never found. To keep the boy's identity a secret. To make sure he wasn’t killed – just like Rose had been.

Bard’s job was such a heavy burden that he was often blind to Ciel’s other needs. Ciel didn't want to _just_ survive.

Bard groaned as he heaved himself from his chair. The room swam as he stood up, stomach writhing. Perhaps he'd drank too much. He hadn't stopped since Ciel had screamed at him.

He cast a critical glare at the television as he shuffled past it, heading for the fridge. The fresh beer was stinging cold in his hand and he pressed it too his head. He was sweating a lot. Too much.

“Ciel?” He called loudly.

His chest gave an unhappy clench. It was starring to ache, an incessant weight that rippled down his arm and made him grind his teeth.

“Ciel?”

The lack of reply made Bard's stomach knot. He kept the cold beer squeezed in his fist, bracing his arm against the wall as he stumbled down the hall. He called out for the boy again, a nest of nervous insects writhing in his gut.

“Stop fucking around, kid.”

Bard thumped on his bedroom door and winched as the pain travelled up his shoulder. He felt sick, a combination of the beer and the heat he guessed. He thumped the door again, listening to the sound echo inside.

“Look,” he said between his teeth. “I didn’t know it was his niece. I didn’t... I didn’t want to hurt you.”

Ciel said nothing and Bard huffed, watching condensation dribble between his fingers. His vision blurred so he closed his eyes, resting his head against the door.

“You _know_ I don’t want you to be lonely,” he said. “I want to protect you. So badly I act stupid about it sometimes.”

He laughed a little, but when no reply came the sound faded into static. He rubbed at his chest where his heart hurt.

“Of course I want you to find someone,” he added.

_I want you to have all the things I never had_ , he added in his head.

“Ciel, please.”

But Ciel said nothing. Bard couldn’t shift his anxiety. Ciel was wounded, yes – and he could be petulant. But he wasn’t cruel. Bard swore under his breath and yanked Ciel’s door open – revealing an empty room.

The curtains danced as wind blew in the open window. Cold fingers curled around Bard’s heart, instantly reminded of the time when Ciel was thirteen. When the boy went missing for hours and hours, and when he found him he –

Bard’s chest caved in.

“Ciel!” He shouted.

Just in case the boy was hiding. Just in case Bard had it wrong. Surely Ciel wasn’t stupid enough to break this one rule – to sneak out without permission.

The pain in his chest was throbbing now, so irksome that Bard dropped his beer and staggered for the kitchen. His hands shook as he opened the bottle of pills – the ones he loathed to take, and they all spilled onto his palm and bounced across the counter, scattering like hail stones.

“Shit!” Bard cursed.

He felt bad. Worse than he had ever felt before. He headed for the front door, tripping over his own feet as his chest squeezed, pain radiating down his arm and to his fingers. He couldn’t feel them as he staggered down the stairs, his mind only focused on finding someone to help him – to help him find Ciel.

The bar was dark, no light coming through the windows as the dark clouds blotted out the sun. The room was a blur of glossy bottles, the neon exit sign above the door. Bard could see people outside, could see the canvas cover of the coffee cart flapping in the wind.

He shouted but his voice was hoarse and whisper-like. He cried out again but couldn’t move his voice past the thickening stone inside his throat. He staggered for the door, bracing his arms against the wall, his shaking hands damp with sweat.

He fiddled with the lock, unable to see anything but a gold glint as he clicked it open. The outside air was cool on his burning skin, the distant promise of thunder heard somewhere over his pulse.

Bard took one step toward the stairs but his foot sunk into nothingness. He fell, too stunned and too arrested by the aching in his chest to even cry out. His body fell to the side, legs buckling as his arm smacked against the stairs. Someone screamed.

“Ciel?” He mumbled.

Bard tried to keep his eyes open but his lashes fell like lead. The last thing he was aware of were hands upon his cheek, his name repeated back to him in a terrified voice.

Then he lost consciousness, and everything went black.

……………………………………………………………………………

 

 

It was raining by the time Sebastian got home.

The VHS sat on the passenger seat of his car, his knuckles white around the steering wheel. There was a neon orange post-it note stuck to it.

_Child killer_ , it read.

Sebastian pulled the paddy-wagon onto the grass out front his house and killed the engine. He stared at the VHS until his eyes blurred. He pressed his tongue into his teeth but he began to cry, warm tears splatting on his trousers as the sky began to dribble too.

_Child killer_.

Sebastian could have laughed if he weren’t so miserable. The two words he’d called himself so many times – heard shouted at him from moving cars, saw reflected in accusing eyes. The two words that had moved him from Sydney to a town no one had ever heard of – only to find them again on a VHS reeking of Bard Delacroix.

Sebastian sobbed.

He was grateful for the rain, now hammering down, which drowned the sounds he made. He wanted to curl up in his mum's arms, suffocate himself in the familiar smell of his father’s shirt, his childhood sheets – but he wasn’t welcomed their either.

Something white distracted Sebastian from his misery.

He glanced up to see Ciel Delacroix sprint across his lawn. He was drenched head to toe, his white shirt soaked through and his sneakers wet with mud. He bounded up the stairs and to Sebastian’s front door, knocking frantically.

“Sebastian!”

Sebastian stepped out of his car, the rain pelting his nose. He crossed the lawn and headed up the stairs, flinching when Ciel spun around so quick he shot raindrops at his face. The boy was panting, water dripping from his pierced nose.

“I didn’t know!” The boy cried, voice ragged. “I went to the station b-but they said you went home. I didn’t know he was going to do that, Sebastian.”

The officer took a deep breath. His eyes fell to Ciel’s chest and saw his shirt was soaked all the way through, his nipples visible through the fabric.

“You ran here from the station?” He asked, forcing his eyes back up to Ciel’s face.

The boy nodded, swiping at his drenched fringe.

“I didn’t know,” Ciel said again, panting. “I’m sorry. I’m _so_ sorry, Sebastian I-”

Sebastian grabbed his arms, squeezing his shoulders. Ciel’s skin was cold, the boy was trembling. He pressed his lips together, choking on a dry sob when the officer smoothed his hair back.

“Breathe,” Sebastian told him.

Ciel closed his eyes as the man traced a knuckle against the side of his cheek. He let go of a rattling breath, clutching Sebastian’s wrist like an anchor.

“Lets go inside,” Sebastian said, curling his hand around Ciel’s.

The boy opened his eyes. They were red around the edges, his nose pink. He eventually nodded, hand tightening around Sebastian’s. He followed quietly when the man unlocked his house and unlaced his boots at the front door.

“Did they fire you?” Ciel asked, voice hesitant.

Sebastian huffed, shaking his head.

“No,” he said, toeing out of his boots. “Everyone already knew.”

Sebastian padded up the hallway of his house, the rain thundering down on the tin roof. Ciel stepped out of his muddy sneakers and tracked after him, dripping on the floorboards.

“I didn’t know,” he said.

Sebastian wet his mouth. He got a towel from the hallway cupboard and handed it to the boy. He dried his face in it, rubbing his cheeks until they were pink.

“It made national headlines,” Sebastian continued, wetting his mouth. “I’m the cop that k-killed his niece.”

Ciel’s hand found his arm, giving it a squeeze.

“I saw the footage,” Ciel said. “It was an accident, you-”

Sebastian closed his eyes.

“You’re freezing, Ciel.”

When he opened his eyes again the boy had his brow drawn together, his lips parted like he wanted to say more. He looked desperate with it, tired and overwhelmed, his sympathy made Sebastian feel all the worse.

“I have some clothes you can borrow,” he said before Ciel could speak again.

The boy swallowed and Sebastian watched rainwater dribble down his throat. He nodded, and the crease fell from his brow in defeat.

……………………………………………………………………………

 

 

Sebastian’s borrowed t-shirt was too big.

The sleeves fell all the way to Ciel’s elbows, the hem so long he didn’t need to borrow pants. When Sebastian wasn’t looking he pressed his nose into the collar and savoured the faint trace of the man’s cologne.

He padded through his house in his underwear, the shirt covering his thighs. Sebastian’s home was beautiful, large and expensive-looking. It was clean and airy but all the rooms were empty. The walls too, void of decorations. The house was like a large, impersonal shell.

“You don’t have any photos of your family,” Ciel told him, taking a seat at the kitchen counter.

The officer had changed into sweatpants and a t-shirt that hugged his pectorals. Ciel hummed, watching his muscles shift beneath the thin fabric as the man took a mug out from the cupboard.

“I don’t speak to my family,” he said.

He flicked on the kettle and it bubbled, keeping time with the pattering rain.

“Why?”

When the kettle clicked over Sebastian filled the mug with steaming water. He slid it toward Ciel, shuffling to the fridge to take out the milk. When the door opened Ciel noticed there was nothing inside the fridge either.

“Because they don’t speak to me,” Sebastian said.

His voice was level, emotionless. Ciel hugged his tea between his hands and thought of a life where his family didn’t speak to him. It ached even to imagine.

“Because of…”

Ciel trailed off. Sebastian’s hair was combed back, his face rather pretty in its vulnerability. His eyelashes were still clumped together with tears and Ciel chastised himself for finding it attractive.

“Ruby,” Sebastian finished.

His voice croaked. He rubbed his jaw as if the word physically pained him.

“Ruby,” Ciel repeated. “That’s a pretty name.”

“She was-”

Sebastian stopped. He dropped his eyes to the counter and his breath hitched. His huge shoulders rose and fell, his hands curling into fists.

“You don’t have to do that,” Ciel whispered.

He slid his hand forward, skin warm with tea, and placed it over Sebastian’s.

“You don’t have to open wounds for me,” he said.

Sebastian’s fist melted into a flat fingers. He turned his hand over until they were palm-to-palm. Ciel traced the lines of his hand, felt out the heel of his thumb. His heart did a somersault, his bare legs pressed together beneath the counter.

Ciel had never loved someone before.

He didn’t love Sebastian - he wasn’t _that_ naive, no matter how often Bard said he was.

But as he touched Sebastian’s hand, mapping out the scars that littered his thick forearm and lingered on his knuckles, Ciel saw a tired and lonely boy. A boy he knew he’d find no difficulty in loving.

Ciel swallowed, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. He withdrew his fingers, giving Sebastian’s fingers a squeeze before sitting upright.

“I don’t want you to stop talking to me,” Ciel admitted, “because of Bard.”

Sebastian watched his hand leave. When he swallowed his throat dipped beneath the collar of his shirt.

“He really hates me,” Sebastian said.

It wasn’t a question. Ciel hummed, taking another sip of tea.

“He hates all cops,” he offered as if a consolation prize.

Sebastian made a noise halfway between a laugh and a grunt. Ciel smiled at it, ducking his head so he could keep eye contact with the cop.

“Do you want some tea?” He asked.

Sebastian shook his head, exhaling like thunder.

“I want a fucking beer,” he said.

Ciel’s snort surprised them both. He slapped his hand over his mouth. Sebastian straightened up, eyes wide.

“Sorry,” Ciel gasped, unable to stem his smile. “It’s just, _yeah_. I bet.”

Sebastian laughed then too, a punched out sound drawn up from his ribs. It made his shoulders sink and his jaw unlock.

“How long have you been sober?” Ciel asked him.

Sebastian shrugged.

“Um, eighteen months.”

“Wow,” Ciel breathed. “That’s a long time.”

Sebastian’s ears turned pink. His small, shy smile stabbing Ciel right through his heart.

“Thanks.”

Ciel slurped his tea to cover his knee-jerk grin. There was a domesticity to the way Sebastian crossed his arms over the counter and laid his head on them. The boy’s fingers itched, tempted to weave into black hair.

“You should take a nap,” he whispered, not sure if the man was already asleep.

But then Sebastian shook his head and mussed his hair. Without lifting his face from the crux of his arm he grumbled out a response.

“Couldn’t if I tried.”

Ciel gave in and tucked back some of his hair. The shell of Sebastian’s ear was warm and he rested his fingers there, feeling his pulse thrum through his knuckles.

“You wanna watch TV?” The man asked.

Ciel nodded. He followed Sebastian into a living room straight out of a magazine. There were no decorations there either, just a television set and a modular lounge. Sebastian sunk into the leather and Ciel settled in beside him, shyly pressing his knee to Sebastian’s.

The only thing worth watching was an old black-and-white movie. It wasn’t Ciel’s first pick but he was content to watch it with Sebastian, heat radiating up his thigh from where they were connected. He listened to the leather creak as Sebastian melted into it, his head tipping back into the cushion.

It was a romantic movie. Ciel snorted when the actor pushed the actress into a deep, overly dramatic kiss that looked more painful than sweet. The music rose to a crescendo, the kiss long and bruising.

“I like when they do that,” Ciel admitted to Sebastian.

But when he looked over the man was fast asleep.

……………………………………………………………………………

 

 

Sebastian woke to silence.

His mouth was tacky and as he ran his tongue across his teeth he tried to remember the last time he’d woken so gently. No screaming. No crying. No hot-cold sheen of sweat stuck to his skin. Just the ceiling fan whirring above him and the patter of rain on the roof.

Ciel was asleep next to him. He had one hand cradled beneath his head and the other curled around the remote, the television muted. His fringe ruffled when the fan blew through it, tickling his nose. Ciel scrunched it, pawing at his mouth.

Sebastian’s eyes drifted down his body to where his legs were stretched along the chaise. The hem of his shirt had ridden up and Sebastian had an uninterrupted view of his thighs. His skin was milk-pale and it creased where his thigh met the meat of his ass. Sebastian averted his eyes, sighing at the ceiling.

Ciel was all red flags.

He was beautiful _and_ intelligent _and_ he liked Sebastian. He laughed at his jokes. He didn’t flinch at his alcoholism. He had skin like butter and a smile like cocaine, and he was entirely too good to be true.

Sebastian knew from months in rehab that tempting things had wicked bites.

As the fan tousled Ciel’s hair again he gave in and touched him, smoothing his fringe off his face. His fingers hesitated, drawing down the curve of his nose until he felt his warm breath.

He could handle this, he told himself. It was only touching - there was no harm in that. Like visiting the Criterion or passing by a bottle shop. As long as his lips didn’t meet the bottle he’d be fine.

Sebastian thumbed over the plush of Ciel’s upper lip, spreading his fingers to encompass his cheek. The boy’s breath hitched, his brow pinched. He blinked awake, pupils fat with sleep.

“Feel better?” He asked, smiling when he noticed Sebastian.

Sebastian nodded. He didn’t take back his hand, fitting the heel of his palm into the socket of Ciel’s jaw. He felt his smile lengthen and then they appeared - two dimples, sinking in to gentle flesh.

Sebastian pushed his thumb against one, rewarded with a huff of warm air. _This is fine_ , he told himself again.

Ciel’s eyes flittered to the clock and they widened. His body tensed, long limbs scrambling up and out of his cat-like position.

“Shit,” he swore, slipping off the couch. “I’m supposed to be at work.”

……………………………………………………………………………

 

 

The clouds gathered black over the ocean.

The beach was deserted, the palm trees dripping with rain. The wipers squeaked across the windscreen as the radio crackled. Ciel was in jeans again, his mud-speckled sneakers tucked under the seat and one bare foot on the dash.

“Bard would have a heart attack if he saw me in your car,” Ciel said.

_Or in my shirt_ , Sebastian thought to himself.

He laughed. He felt good. Really good. His body didn’t ache and the weather did nothing to dampen his emotion. The VHS in the glovebox was forgotten and Sebastian focused on the road while Ciel fiddled with the stereo system.

“Maybe he’ll ground you,” he said as a joke.

Ciel shot him a look.

“I _am_ grounded.”

Sebastian glanced sideways at the boy.

“But you’re an adult.”

Ciel scoffed. “You’ve met Bard, right?”

Sebastian pressed his lips together. _Touché_. He had indeed met Bard.

They didn’t speak for the rest of the drive, relaxed in the silence of one another’s company. Sebastian wound down his window to let the petrichor in. Ciel got the stereo to tune and he hummed along to an old song, drumming his fingers on the seat.

When they got into Nowhere the rain had thinned out into drizzle. Pulling up at the Criterion Sebastian noticed the coffee cart was out, its shade sagging with puddles. Ciel noticed too, going uncomfortably still in his seat.

“Something’s wrong,” he said.

The pub’s lights weren’t on and the tables weren’t out. The sign on the door read closed.

“Ciel?”

Lis came darting from the grocer’s across the road and up to the window of the car. Her springy hair was flattened with water, her tan face void of colour. She frowned at Ciel, scanning his face with her brow pinched.

“What happened?” Ciel asked, voice pitched with worry.

“Bard’s heart gave out,” she told him.

The sudden, wounded sound Ciel made was one Sebastian had heard a thousand times. He’d delivered bad new so many times he had it down to a practice, was almost numb to it. He’d received it himself once too - the pain was still etched into his skeleton, an ache he couldn’t rid himself of.

It hurt all the worse watching it happened to someone as gentle as Ciel.

“No!”

The boy covered his mouth. Sebastian could only sit in mild terror, his hand clenched into the car seat as Ciel’s entire world fell apart.

……………………………………………………………………………

 

 

Sebastian waited in the car.

Ciel was upstairs in the apartment, looking for something he needed before they could leave for the hospital. Lis waited with him, sitting on the curb as the rain darkened the bottom of her sneakers.

“His eyes were open when the ambo took him,” Lis said. “That’s a good sign, right?”

Sebastian was used to that - people leaning on him in a crisis, comforted by his uniform. They always assumed he had answers.

“I don’t know,” he admitted.

Lis seemed not to hear him, staring at the bitumen.

“I know he stresses a lot,” she continued, “but I didn’t think - I mean, he’s so young. No one has a heart attack in their thirties, do they?”

Sebastian opened and closed his mouth. His skin was starting to itch, his hands aching where he gripped the steering wheel.

“I don’t know.”

He looked over to the pub, eyes drifting to the apartment above it. The screen door was still open at the top of the staircase. Ciel had been gone a while.

“What’s going to happen to the Criterion?” Lis sighed.

Sebastian sighed too.

“I’m going to check on him,” he told her, getting out of the car.

As he headed up the staircase Sebastian realised he didn’t know what to say to Ciel. For a moment he’d been foolish enough to assume _he’d_ be the one Ciel wanted to see in a crisis - not Lis, nor anyone else who had known the boy longer than a handful of weeks.

The open door lead into a small, cosy kitchen. None of the coffee mugs matched and the fridge was dressed with take-out magnets and photographs. Sebastian paused to look at one of a little boy in the arms of a younger, smiling Bard.

The linoleum floor was littered with prescription medicine and Sebastian stepped carefully around it. In the living room the window was open, the couch damp with rainfall. There was a record player tucked into the corner, a Nintendo on the coffee table, a beer can by the armchair.

Ciel sat in the middle of it all, shuffling through a stack of cards. He was sobbing, loud and frightened, so much that he didn’t notice Sebastian when he crouched down beside him. He pressed his palm against his back and the boy flinched, dropping the cards over his lap.

“Sebastian?” He sniffled.

His face was wet, his nose pink. He rubbed at his face, his breath catching on saliva as he struggled to breathe. Sebastian combed back his hair, watching the boy’s face light up with fear. Their eyes fell to the cards at the same time.

Drivers licences. Dozens of them.

Sebastian picked up a handful and his heart began to sink.

_Bard Anderson_.

_Bard Fenton_.

_Baldroy Turner_.

_Bard Ransom_.

They all had the same photograph but different names and addresses.

“What is this?” He whispered, looking at Ciel.

Ciel went dead still. He swallowed audibly. Another tear dribbled down his cheek.

“Sebastian,” he said very quietly. “ _Don’t_.”

“How many times have you changed your name?”

Ciel started shaking his head. His chest rose and fell, his hands clenched in the carpet. When his lips parted he began to pant, his face turning grey.

“You don’t understand,” he said, voice thick.

“This is illegal,” Sebastian murmured to himself.

_Very illegal_ , he thought.

He dropped the cards in his fist and picked up some more, his stomach twisting at the sight of them. Licences. Credit cards. Health care cards.

_Ciel Cameron_.

_Ciel Andrews_.

_Ciel Emerson_.

Ciel’s grainy photograph stared back at him on every single one. It wasn’t just red flags anymore. It was an ocean of blood rushing to Sebastian’s head as he tried to take in what he was seeing.

_Fraud_ , he thought. _Fugitive_.

Words that he’d imprinted on his tongue since university, laws he’d memorised on paper now in the flesh, wide-eyed and trembling.

Sebastian took a seat on the rain damp couch. Ciel sat at his knees like a roo in headlights, dead quiet like if he breathed the man would arrest him.

It was what Sebastian _should_ do.

But it was difficult to even entertain the idea of hurting Ciel. Sebastian felt so sick he could only sit there, rain blowing through the window as his stomach tied into a knot.

“Is Ciel even your real name?” He asked after a while.

Ciel nodded. He’d started to cry again, silent things that dribbled off his face and to the carpet. Sebastian hung his head into the cradled of his hands. _What a day_.

“Please don’t tell anyone,” Ciel whispered.

Sebastian stared at the floor. The cards were everywhere, spread between their bodies, incriminating and real. Sebastian didn’t know what to do or say. Ciel sniffled at his silence, his breath hitching until he was hyperventilating.

“Please,” he begged. “Please don’t, please please _please_ , you don’t-”

He stopped to suck in a staggered breath. A strand of saliva broke between his lips, his fringe sticking to his tears. Sebastian watched him curl in on himself. He knew how it felt to be that desperate.

“Just breathe,” Sebastian blurted, sliding off the couch to join him. “It’s okay, it’s alright.”

The words were knee-jerk. As he shuffled forward and reached for Ciel’s face he thought of all the nights he’d spent crying on his own, so frightened he couldn’t breathe. All he’d wanted was someone to be there with him. He thumbed the tears from Ciel’s face.

“What do you need?” He asked him.

Ciel’s eyelashes glued to his cheeks. He was trembling, his lips wet.

“A Medicare c-card,” he stammered, “with Bard’s name on it.”

“Okay,” Sebastian nodded.

“He doesn’t take his heart medication because it’s too expensive without one,” Ciel explained.

His tears had thinned out, his hand coming up to clasp the officer’s wrist.

“I understand,” Sebastian said, because he did.

Ciel leaned his weight into Sebastian’s hand, pawing at his nose again. He was quiet enough for the noise of rain to return, still blowing in from the open window.

“Let’s go,” Sebastian said.

He let go of Ciel’s face and he stood, offering his hand to him. The boy stared at his fingertips, confused.

“What do you mean?”

“Let’s go to the hospital. We can worry about the card later.”

Ciel’s eyes flicked from Sebastian’s hand up to his face. He stared for a long time, a crease between his brow as if trying to look for a trap. Sebastian let his shoulders sink.

“I didn’t see anything,” he told the boy.

He didn’t know why he said it.

Maybe he was panicking. Maybe it was the photograph pinned to the fridge. Maybe he was going crazy, finally breaking under the pressure the last two years of his life had dumped upon his shoulders.

“I didn’t see the cards,” Sebastian repeated, offering his hand again.

Ciel took it.

……………………………………………………………………………

 

 

Ciel didn’t speak as they drove to the hospital.

He rest his head against the window and stared out of it, arms hugged around his waist. Sebastian glanced across at him and saw his tears had stopped. _That’s a start_ , he thought.

When they pulled into the parking lot Ciel unbuckled his belt but didn’t get out. He tugged at the hem of his borrowed shirt, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth as if working up the courage to speak.

“Why?” Ciel eventually croaked.

Sebastian kept his hands on the steering wheel, staring out the window at the bitumen. He shook his head. _Because I’m going insane?_ He thought to himself.

“What would happen if I reported you?” He said instead.

He felt the way Ciel tensed. In his peripheral the boy was so still Sebastian couldn’t see him. He heard him though, the way his breath hitched and he wet his mouth.

“If they find out where we are,” he said, “they’ll track us down and kill us.”

Sebastian pressed his head down on the steering wheel and swore. The muscles in his back bunched up, his body sore with stress. _This is bad_ , he told himself. _This had gone too far_.

“Who’s _they_?” He grit.

Ciel didn’t answer. Sebastian glanced sideways at him and the boy was looking through the window toward the emergency room. The officer deflated, swallowing back all his questions.

“Go,” he told him. “I won’t say anything.”

“You could lose your job,” Ciel said.

Sebastian nodded. He’d already lost a lot.

“I just want to do the right thing,” he muttered.

Ciel finally looked him in the eye. His face was eerily calm, his skin dewey with tears. He leaned in across the console and pressed his mouth against Sebastian’s cheek. The kiss lingered, Ciel’s nose bent into his cheekbone.

Then he was gone, slipping from the car and jogging across the parking lot. Sebastian sank into his seat as he wondered if he had made the biggest mistake of his life.

……………………………………………………………………………

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked this chapter I would really like to hear from you! Please leave a comment or talk to me on Tumblr (bun-o-ween) or on Twitter (@bun_o_ween)


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